


Counterpoint

by whiteroses77



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst and Drama, Consent Issues, Established Relationship, F/M, Love, M/M, Mystery, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2020-12-09 05:27:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20989589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiteroses77/pseuds/whiteroses77
Summary: Everything in Clark Kent’s life is going great, until something happens to the world that he knows. When the person he usually turns to is lost, will he be able to save his reality, and get back the person he loves the most?





	1. Chapter 1

TITLE: Counterpoint 1/8  
PAIRING: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne  
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77  
WORD COUNT: 2,788  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Everything in Clark Kent’s life is going great, until something happens to the world that he knows. When the person he usually turns to is lost, will he be able to save his reality, and get back the person he loves the most?

~S~

Superman strode through the living area of the Fortress of Solitude with purpose. He approached the crystalline night table beside the opulent Kryptonian bed, and then placed the wild flowers, a posy of cornflowers and delicate sunflowers that he’d just picked on the way here in the crystal vase. He adjusted it to the middle of the table. It seemed a little silly, but just because his significant other was a strapping, tough as nails superhero didn’t mean he couldn’t be romantic, and bring his lover here for a quiet romantic getaway from the world and their responsibilities.

They’d both been working hard, so he believed they both deserved the private alone time here at his sanctuary. 

He smiled to himself; he just had to convince him to take a break. He had the setting, he had the food, a picnic of delights, including some sweet cider, he had the music, and he had the lube. His next errand was to get cover for their patrols tonight. 

As he left the Fortress of Solitude, he felt a little dizzy. He shook it off, and flew high in the blue sky and then even further through the atmosphere, until he got to the Watchtower space station. When it came into view, he squinted at it, he snorted to himself, it looked different somehow, maybe smaller. He shook his head; he was just imagining it, wasn’t he?

He entered the station, and headed for the monitor hub to find out everyone’s schedule. 

As he passed by, he saw some of his teammates in the conference room. He cocked his head quizzically and then entered, Martian Manhunter, Green Arrow, Black Canary, and Cyborg were there and they all turned and looked at him.

When he saw him, Arrow asked, “Where have you been, the meeting was supposed to start twenty minutes ago.”

Superman shook his head, “Um, I was busy, I didn’t know.” 

Cyborg grumbled, “We’ve all got things to do.”

With a touch of confusion, he said, “Sorry.”

Black Canary asked, “If you forgot about the meeting, Superman, why are you here?”

He glanced around at his irritated teammates, and then bashfully, he revealed, “I’ve planned a romantic getaway.” He felt under scrutiny, as everyone stared at him but he continued, “I was going to ask if anyone wanted to cover Metropolis and Gotham for us tonight. I’d ask Dick and Conner but the Titans have been busy working hard lately.”

He felt Martian Manhunter’s inscrutable gaze on him.

Arrow rolled his eyes, and said, “I’m sure Lois will understand that you’ve got more important things to do.”

Canary asked at the same time, “Cover Gotham…?”

And Cyborg asked, “Who’s Dick?”

Superman’s gaze darted from one to the other, confused by all the strange questions. He chuckled nervously, “What the hell are you talking about…?” With foreboding, he glanced around the conference table, and he asked, “If this meeting is so important where’s everyone else?”

Victor explained, “AC’s on a mission.”

He stared, “And…?”

Everyone stared at him gone out, as if they had no clue what he was talking about. Seeing it in their eyes, Superman took a shuddery breath and cupped his mouth, he felt sick, physically sick. He asked roughly, “What’s happened?”

Martian Manhunter rounded the table towards him, and said gently, “Calm down, Superman, I can feel your distress.”

He glanced around the conference room, it seemed different too. He felt his eyes prickle with unshed tears and he asked at a loss, “J'onn, what’s happened?”

“Calm yourself, Clark.” his old friend hushed, then J'onn’s gaze darted around the table at the others, and he spoke seriously, “Ever since Superman entered the Watchtower I’ve felt something, a collision between two realities.”

Cyborg asked, “Two realities, like dimensions?”

“I don’t think it’s as simple as that.” the empathic hero said.

Still feeling sick, Superman struggled to say, “This is wrong, and I don’t know if it’s me or you.”

He glanced around quickly as Oliver’s hand touched his shoulder. He felt dizzy. He saw deep concern in his friend’s face, “Why don’t you sit down, and we can figure it out.”

He nodded, and took his seat at the conference table. Then J'onn and Oliver did too. He gazed across the table to the empty seat there. He asked shakily, “Who sits in that chair?”

Dinah said gently, “It’s a spare seat, but Diana uses it on the odd occasion she comes to a meeting, you know this.”

He swallowed hard, “She’s not a regular member of the team?”

Victor explained, “No, like Zatanna and Stargirl, they come when they’re needed.”

Dinah scorned, “Yeah, she only shows up when there’s a huge crisis, and she always claims that seat because she says it’s equal to yours.”

Oliver shrugged, “So now we just leave it empty.”

He frowned at the haughty description of his friend; the strong-willed but genteel amazon. Diana always used the seat at Clark’s right hand maybe as a sign of being the leader’s counsel, he’d never thought about it. Maybe that was where she had sat under Queen Hippolyta’s leadership. The chair across from him was for his counterbalance; they didn’t always agree but always found a way to meet in the middle.

Dinah asked, “What’s wrong Clark, what’s with the chair?”

He swallowed hard against the bile, and then revealed, “That seat belongs to someone…” he glanced around at his friends, “He’s supposed to be in the Justice League…” he tensed his jaw, “He was until today… shit… until twenty minutes ago.”

They all raised their eyebrows at him swearing, and then J'onn asked, “Is this man’s absence here the only difference to the life that you know?”

He wasn’t sure, and then his gaze darted around the room, “The Watchtower doesn’t look right.” He swallowed hard, “Not enough money.”

Oliver scoffed, “You know how much I sunk into this place?”

He did, he knew in the real world that two billionaires had invested. Here the bill must’ve been on Oliver’s shoulders alone. Clark nodded, “Yeah I do.” and then he remembered from moments earlier, “And Victor didn’t recognise Dick’s name.”

Dinah agreed, “That’s true, we don’t know who that is, is that the man who’s missing?”

Clark shook his head, “No.” he thought about it and then said, “But he wouldn’t be here without him would he…” 

Everyone was listening intently but still oblivious, so he cringed, and explained, “Dick was mentored by Bruce, if he isn’t here, that means Dick could be anywhere, with Bruce, or still with the circus. Hell, he could be dead if he went after the Graysons’ killers alone.”

His team, his friends met each other’s gazes, and he could tell they were just confused by his blathering. He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “Okay, let’s think. Maybe it isn’t that bad, maybe he just never joined the League that’s all.” he looked to Oliver, “Do you know a Gotham socialite named Bruce Wayne?”

Oliver cringed and shook his head at the same time and Clark urged, “What’s that reaction about?”

His long-time friend told him, “I know the name, when we were kids his parents were killed…” 

Clark nodded along, “That’s all you know; you don’t know him from Gotham high society?”

He winced again, “Clark, there is no Gotham high society; people rich enough to leave moved out. They were too afraid to stay there.”

“My parents didn’t stay either.” Dinah added.

God, he didn’t become Batman. He uttered, “Without him there, it got worse…”

Victor asked, “You’re saying that someone on our side made Gotham safe?”

He answered truthfully, “Gotham has always been balancing on the edge, but he did his best, and with him looking over them, people could live there without living in fear.”

“Must’ve been a badass?” Dinah commented.

“Yeah.” Clark half smiled. He wondered, “If he’s not there, why haven’t we done something about Gotham ourselves?”

Oliver made a grumbling noise, “You don’t remember anything from the real world do you?”

Clark glared, “My world’s real…” then he winced and said emotionally, “We were real.”

They were staring at him again, and then J'onn put it into words, “You had feelings for this man?”

He nodded and admitted, “We’re partners; we love each other.”

Oliver blurted, “What about Lois?”

He shook his head, “Lois is one of my best friends but we’re not…” he paused and he met his gaze, “That’s why you thought the romantic getaway was for Lois.” He sighed and confessed, “There were moments where I thought about it, but… after Bruce… no.”

His blond friend gritted his teeth and then paced, “This is fucked up, Clark.”

Clark said, “I know…”

Oliver turned and glowered at him, “You have a fiancée at home, and you’re sitting here crying over some imaginary man.”

His nostrils flared with anger but he breathed deeply and tried to stay in control. Then J'onn spoke up, “I can assure you what Clark is telling us is real… but so is what we all believe, I don’t know how.”

Clark groaned, “I wish Bruce was here, he’d figure it out.”

Oliver sneered, “He’d figure it out? What is he a genius too as well as Gotham’s white knight?”

He sprang up fast, and he eyed him with a steely gaze, “Actually, yes he is.”

Dinah smirked, “Mr Perfect.”

Victor muttered, “I don’t care about this relationship stuff, I just want to figure out how we can get back the guy who can take the Batman out of circulation.”

Clark’s gaze darted to Victor in surprise and horror, “What did you say?”

“The fucking maniac that’s ruling the streets of Gotham, the Batman.” he replied.

He suddenly felt sick again, “No… god no.”

“What’s the matter?” he was asked.

It couldn’t be true, maybe it was someone else calling themselves Batman. He couldn’t believe it until he saw for himself. 

~*~

He left his friends on the Watchtower, and flew hard towards Gotham. Even before he got there he saw the area of the city that was slums in darkness. He saw that the affluent areas were still lit up. That told him that after the rich folks had abandoned ship the poor had moved into those areas. 

He wasn’t for keeping the poor in their place; his own family had had hard times, almost lost the farm so he knew what it was like to struggle with staying on the right side of the law, knowing you could just take things for your family, make things better if you could just bend the rules. Yet he guessed the rich had taken their money with them so the people moving in had only gained a better house, not the assets to keep food on the table.

His gaze strayed away from the city into the Palisades, and there he saw Wayne Manor in darkness, not a light at a window or a lamp that normally lit the driveway. Clark swallowed hard. He returned his gaze to the city, and then he expanded his hearing until he heard everything all at once, and then he blocked out the sounds one by one until he found the beloved rhythm and pulse of life.

He headed down, and down until he landed on a street. His heart quickened as he saw the shadowy clad figure fighting a gang. It was so familiar, the only difference was the suit that he wore. There was no cape, and the colour was lighter, not darkest black. Then he noticed another difference, there was no utility belt, instead there was a holster with weapons. 

“Nothing to take anyone alive.” he whispered.

Then his body and mind jerked in horror as his words were enacted, and the Batman moved fast and sliced open a man’s throat, and then another and then sunk the blade into the chest of the third.

The men fell down around Batman’s feet in slow motion, and then nonchalantly the cowl wearing figure bent over and cleaned the red splattered blade on the clothes of one of the dead. Then he went to slide it back in its sheath. The shock left Superman’s body enough for him to move. Horrified, he sped in front of the Batman, demanding, “What the hell are you doing?”

The blade was out the sheath and at Superman’s throat before he could finish the sentence.

He swallowed hard against the sharp point at his throat, he stated, “You know that can’t hurt me.”

The Batman grinned sharp and nasty, “Well, well Kryptonian you’ve come back to see me again, I knew you would.”

He was flying blind, he had no idea how or when they were supposed to have met. He couldn’t help that. He said, “What you’re doing here is wrong, you shouldn't be killing people.”

Oh so familiar lips turned up into a disturbing smirk, “That’s what I was trained to do, it’s my gift.”

Slowly, he grazed the tip of the blade over Superman’s throat, and then he pursed his lips, and put the blade in its sheath.

It was true, he knew he’d been trained by the League of Assassins, knew he’d excelled. It would be so easy for Bruce Wayne to kill, almost as easy as it would be for Clark to kill. They both had the abilities to be lethal, to be judge, jury and executioner. It was that fact, and the fact that both of them had chosen a different path that was one of the reasons that a bond of friendship and then something more had been created between them. 

But here, this Batman had chosen the wrong path. Except this wasn’t a different world, this was their world, the man in front of him was supposed be his soulmate.

Batman’s eyes weighed him up intensely, “You’ve decided to finally cross the line and kill me.”

Superman’s eyes widened at the statement.

He chuckled darkly, “No…?” then he moved in closer, “Maybe you wanted more of me.”

Then Batman’s lips were pressed to Superman’s lips hard. Those lips were Bruce Wayne’s but the kiss was all wrong. He felt dizzy, he couldn’t think, and suddenly he was overwhelmed by memories that weren’t his own, the memories of this reality, and he tore his mouth away. 

He panted and stared at him in revulsion, knowing this wasn’t the first time the murderer's lips had been pressed to his but before he could say anything, the Batman cooed, “My pretty alien.” then took his mouth again. His gloved fist was tight in Superman’s hair and his tongue was in his mouth.

Superman resisted the power of the new memories and concentrated on his real life, and tried to pull away. Then he realised with fear that he was actually struggling to get away. He gasped, and then folded in on himself and crumpled to his knees. 

His blood screamed inside him. In torment, he gazed up at the man that he trusted with the Kryptonite, except he knew he had never trusted this man with anything.

The Batman leered down at him on his knees in front of him, “I knew that was where you wanted to be.”

He felt bile in his throat for the second time tonight. And the dark memories of all the times they had met in this reality churned inside him. With almost a sob, he denied, “No.”

A twisted version of the playful smile, which he delighted in teasing into existence, was shot his way. The Batman’s gloved fingers teasingly touched his own crotch; he said huskily, “That’s what you always say.”

A feeling of distress and dread filled him, and he glanced at the crotch of the wrong Batsuit, and then he met his gaze with a sneer and warned through clenched teeth, “Kryptonite or not, you try it, and I’ll fucking bite it off.”

The Batman laughed harshly, and then suddenly kicked him. 

Superman hit the black-top, and he felt blood on his lip, but the kick had flung him away from the intensity of the Kryptonite, and Superman dragged himself, and scrambled out of the poison’s radius. 

He had just enough power to get airborne, and he flew away from the danger that the man he loved radiated.

To be continued.


	2. Chapter 2

TITLE: Counterpoint 2/8  
PAIRING: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne  
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77  
WORD COUNT: 3,188  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: The memories from the new reality try to overwhelm Clark.

~*~

He tried to the keep them contained but the memories of this altered ruin of a life crept in as he floated above Gotham and gazed down at the echo of the man that meant the world to him. 

He remembered the night they met in this dark twisted world.

~*~

Lois had been writing a series of articles comparing Metropolis to other cities of the world. For most of them, Clark had waved his fiancée off on a tour of the world. During those weeks, he sometimes flew to where she was staying, and they'd spend a romantic night together, but mostly he let her do her own thing as usual. 

Yet when her attention had turned to Metropolis' closest neighbour, Clark insisted on ferrying her to and from her interviews. He hadn't wanted to leave the woman he loved to the perils of the increasingly violent city.

Superman picked her up after interviewing the mayor of Gotham. Or was that just the man who still held the title, not that the city government were doing much good lately or a least that was what his writing partner was grumbling when he arrived. 

He'd swept her up in the bridal carry, and floated them into the air. Her indignation melted away as she relaxed.

Lois' breath caressed his cheek, as she murmured, “I never get tired of this, being held in your arms.”

As they floated higher, he gazed into her hazel eyes, and instinctively began to close the gap between them. Lois smiled and pressed her fingers against his lips. “We can't, not since we put the engagement announcement in the Planet.”

Wryly, he smiled against her fingers, “You don't want anyone to think you'd cheat on Clark?”

His best friend smirked, “Smallville, I can handle everyone thinking I'm a floozy, I just don't want anyone questioning Superman's integrity.”

That sincere sentiment made his brow crease with emotion, “I love you, Lois.”

Then he closed the gap, and he kissed the woman he loved. She returned the kiss slowly as she always did at first, and then she groaned with pleasure and opened her mouth for him. Their tongues met slowly, and they both moaned. Lois' fingers threaded through his hair, and her fingernails grazed his scalp. A current of desire went through him from his scalp, around his body and ended where his lips touched hers, his kiss became harder with passion.

Lois whimpered and then she was crawling over him, trying to get closer. He pulled her into his embrace, and she wrapped her long legs around his waist. He growled softly, and then he pressed her back against the nearest flat surface.

Lois' eyes widened and she glanced around, and saw she was pressed against a wall on the rooftop of Gotham's Wayne Enterprises tower. Her focus returned to him as his hands caressed her smooth legs and slid under her skirt, and bunched it up around her slim waist. 

She met his gaze fiercely, and then her hands were separating his uniform, before sliding the bottoms down over his ass, and releasing his erection. 

She felt his fingers trace the edge of her red panties, and she whispered breathily, “Don't tear them off, please, they're my favourite pair.”

Then she laughed as she saw his pout at being denied, and then she kissed him. He groaned, and then he guided himself past the lacy edge, and then up into her wet heat.

His lover gasped, as she sank onto his length.

He groaned huskily into the nook of her neck, “Always so fucking wet for me.”

Lois laughed hoarsely, “I need to be with the way you fill me up.” she gasped as he thrust, “God, fill me up.”

Damn, he couldn't think any more, and he let himself be consumed by the rhythm, and the slick tight heat covering his cock. 

Lois was panting, and whining in his ear, and he echoed her with soft grunts, breathing in the scent of her soft brunette tresses. 

Then there was a movement that tickled his super-senses, and he opened his eyes and turned his head. With lust drunk eyes, he saw a dark figure on the rooftop watching them. He was wearing a mask that covered his whole head and most of his face.

Those eyes that were watching were intense depths and they trapped him for endless moments, a hard thrust, a breathy feminine cry, and fingernails scraping over his ass cheeks. He saw the intensity in those eyes flare. Clark held that gaze, blinked heavy lidded, and thrust harder. 

His mouth hung open slack with pleasure, and with something exciting that he didn't understand, because he felt like he was drowning in those eyes. He saw the armoured bat insignia covered chest rise and fall. He couldn't think, he didn't know what he was doing, but he couldn't stop, couldn't hide. 

He thrust into the woman he loved until she came, trembling around him and squeezing him tight.

At the last moment, he took her mouth hard so she couldn't cry out, 'Clark'.

Then he closed his eyes, and still felt him watching and he followed Lois, gasping softly, praying for the dark figure to be gone when he opened his eyes.

When he opened his eyes, he was gone and Clark sighed with relief.

~*~

His relief didn't last too long, because a few days later when he went to pick Lois up from her last interview in Gotham, he found that she'd disappeared. It wasn't unusual for Lois not to tell him everything she was doing, therefore he wasn't too worried.

That changed when he got the summons to an abandoned but luxuriously decorated building in Gotham. Apart from Lex's holdings it was the nicest hideout he'd ever rescued anyone from. 

He found his fiancée easily, Lois was strapped into a comfortable high backed chair but unharmed. It was obvious that though Lois was the bait, her torture wasn't the endgame for who ever had kidnapped her.

Her eyes widened when she saw him. She wasn't gagged so she warned him clearly, “Stay back, there's Kryptonite lasers surrounding the chair.”

He heeded her warning and held back, he didn't want to be sliced in half and he asked, “Who is it?”

She knew what he was asking, and she answered, “He didn't introduce himself but I think it's that psychopath The Batman.” she shrugged, “The bat on his chest kinda gave it away.”

He nodded, and winced internally, he remembered that night on the rooftop, he remembered the bat insignia. He should've realised who the figure was then, but he'd been distracted.

He asked, “What does he want?”

Lois snorted, “Just said, he wanted to meet you.” she motioned to a door, “He said to go in there when you arrived.”

He inhaled roughly.

She told him, “He's probably got Kryptonite in there too.”

He nodded and then he stepped towards the door.

“Geez you're not just going to walk in there.” Lois grumbled.

He shook his head, “What else am I supposed to do, Lois?”

Lois cringed, “Don't get yourself killed.”

He smiled at the woman he loved, and then continued to the doorway.

~*~

He entered through the door to find another palatial room, nicely decorated with soft rich furnishings. 

Seated on a daintily sparred easy chair was the man he'd seen on the rooftop. His armoured outfit clashed with the room and the chair he was sitting on. But somehow he didn't seem out of place. He turned from the open fire as Superman entered the room.

The Batman's gaze swept him, and then he said his voice raspy, “Superman, we meet finally.”

Superman swallowed hard and said with an air of detachment, “I think we've already met.”

Apart from his intense eyes, the only other thing he could see of him was his mouth, and that mouth quirked at the edges. “I was trying to be discreet.”

He felt antsy, and he said tersely, “Discreet would've meant turning around and walking away that night.”

The Batman's nostrils flared, and he said gravelly, “The show was too good.”

Superman's eyes widened at that remark, and the affect that voice had on him. “What do you want?”

“Your girlfriend's pretty. It looked like she felt good around your cock.” his eyes narrowed wryly, “It looked like you felt good inside her pussy.”

He tensed his jaw, and ignored the uncouth comments. He asked, “What am I doing here?”

“You really want me to tell you?” he asked goadingly.

With trepidation, he looked the well built figure in the chair over, and then glanced back at the door. Then he admitted, “No, no I don't.”

The Batman smirked, “I'll show you then.”

Then he unclasped something on his armour, and then he slid the codpiece away. Superman's breath stuttered. Then Batman took hold of himself, and he stroked his own cock. 

The threat was implied, and protectively, he snarled, “You stay away from Lois.”

In response, Batman groaned softly, and rubbed the glans with his gloved thumb. “You think I'm going rape your girlfriend? I take what I want but that's not what I want.” 

He wanted to believe that, but the man was sitting there with a hard on for crying out loud. Clark was doing his best not to look at it.

Then the other man added lightly, “Though I might cut her fucking pretty head off if you don't do what I say. Now take your cape off.”

The request surprised him, and he couldn't hide the fact. 

“If you want to protect your girlfriend, then take the damned cape off.” Batman told him exasperatedly.

With a frown, and because it made no difference, Superman removed his cape, and let it fall to the carpet. 

Batman's eyes took him in palpably, then he murmured, “That's good. Now on your knees.”

‘Finally, he'd gotten to the point’ Superman thought. He stood straighter and shook his head defiantly.

“The man with a will of steel.” the dangerous man mused playfully.

He was trapped, he couldn't get to the woman he loved, and that meant he couldn't protect her. He had the crazy urge to tell him that he was engaged as if that was the reason he couldn't do it. Like it would get him off the hook.

From across the room, his eyes found the erection in the other man's hand again. He saw Superman looking at the generous length, and he let it go, and it stood obscenely in his lap. 

Superman breathed deeply. 

And Batman smirked.

Defiantly, Superman dropped to his knees where he stood.

Batman grinned sharply, “You're going to make us work for this, aren't you?”

Superman met his gaze straight on, “There is no us.”

“Your eyes were telling me something different that night, Kryptonian.”

He swallowed hard and said gravelly, “I can't help what you think you saw.”

He saw him glower, it was a look of hatred, completely opposed to the evidence that stated otherwise in his lap. 

At the intensity, unconsciously Superman licked his lips. In response, the man in the chair inhaled and exhaled, and then said, “Crawl to me.”

He was fucking psychotic. 

Clark could imagine playfully crawling towards his lover, but this man wasn't his lover, and he wasn't playing. He saw a dark twinkle in his eye, and amended, maybe he was playing, but this wasn't Clark's idea of a game. 

“Come on Kryptonian, come to me.” he urged huskily.

Superman tensed his jaw, and then he gracefully prowled on his hands and knees to his tormentor. As he approached, Batman's cock flexed as his eyes devoured his skin tight suited body moving towards him. Clark felt a sense of arrogance in the knowledge he was making him this hard without even trying.

Reflexively, Superman’s lips curved at the edges, and Batman saw it, and cooed with triumph, “Yes.”

As he ended up kneeling between his muscled thighs, inches away from that impressive cock, Superman made steely eye contact, and then denied clearly, “No.”

Batman's nostrils flared, and then he was reaching for something, and then pain tore through Superman and reflexively his hands grasped his armour covered hips, and he clenched his teeth and bowed his head in pain. His face came to rest in Batman's lap. That lap writhed under his face, that thick cock rubbing against his cheek before the pain ebbed away and he was left panting harshly against hard flesh. 

Now the pain was gone, the scent of him flooded his senses, sweat, pre-come and something that smelled expensive, sharp and clean. Then he heard the quietly spoken demand, “Suck my cock.”

With building horror at himself, and the situation he’d found himself in and with his head still bowed, his lips still panting, slowly, he reached out with his tongue and he licked the turgid flesh. He heard a sharp intake of breath from the man above him. 

Wicked excitement shivered through Clark at that sound. Then he took a longer lick, and finished at the tip. He whined as pre-come splashed against his tongue and he tasted him. 

Without being told again, Superman covered the head with his lips, and sucked him into his mouth. 

There was another sharp breath exhaled above him. His cock grew even harder in his mouth, and Clark hummed around him.

“Look at me, let me see your pretty eyes.” he rumbled from his throat.

His raised his face, met those intense eyes, held that gaze and then took more of his throbbing cock and then sucked slowly. 

If anyone ever found out, he'd deny it but he couldn't deny it to himself, he was ashamed of himself but he was turned on. This man was turning him on against his will and his heart. 

God, he was enjoying it. 

Gloved hands cupped his face, and then that impressive length was thrust deeper into his mouth, forced into his throat. He moaned and he opened his throat and swallowed around the head.

With astonishment, Batman choked out, “Oh fuck.” then he growled softly, “You've done this before.”

He was right, it was a long time ago, before Lois. But he wasn't going tell this bastard his sexual history. Instead, Superman let wicked humour shine in his eyes as he pulled back. He blinked slowly and he licked around the head and hummed again, and then continued sucking. 

Batman grabbed his jaw, dug his fingers into his flesh and forced him away roughly, it would've hurt anyone else. 

Superman licked his lips, and gazed at him haughtily. 

Then those gloved hands were trying to guide him forward, trying to press their lips together. He turned his head, and denied, “No.”

With obvious confusion, he asked.“You'll suck my cock but you won't kiss me.” 

“No, I won't let you kiss me.” he answered.

There was a glimmer of uncertainty in Batman's eyes, before he demanded, “Stand up.”

Superman took a breath, he didn't want to, he didn't want to expose his own shame. Then he was ordered, “Stand up now.”

He climbed up to his feet, and stood in front of him. Then Batman laughed wickedly. Then he reached out and traced the outline in the blue fabric. It twitched under his touch, and Superman gasped. 

Batman's hands moved around and grasped and measured his ass through the blue fabric, and then his fingers found the clasp that separated the blue uniform, and released him. In that moment, he knew he'd been watching longer than he thought that night. Long enough to see Lois open the clasps. 

Superman’s breath hitched as his cock stood up in front of him, hard and traitorous. He watched the other man as he admired his hard length. He'd seen that look in other men's eyes, and instinctively, Clark stepped forward, presenting it for the other man. He saw hunger there before it was replaced by disdain, as he sneered, “What do you expect me to do with that.”

He gazed down at him, open mouthed and needy, “Please.” slipped from his lips.

That small word made the bastard smile, and then he wrapped his gloved hand around him and stroked. Clark's eyes closed in tormented pleasure and he thrust through the tight fist. Over and over, before he was guided down, and then he was straddling his lap in that fragile looking chair. 

Batman continued stroking strong and steady, and he leaned in and his teeth bit Superman's nipple through the blue fabric. Clark's eyes flew open and whined softly as his cock flexed in that tight grasp. Then Batman's other hand guided him down a breath away, and he said desire, “Kiss me and I'll let you come.”

He was too hard, too wired, too lost to deny himself, and he leaned in and he kissed him. It was opened mouthed, and wet, no tenderness just passion, and it was incredible.

Batman's tongue searched his mouth, and Superman rocked through his fist, and he reached down between them and he wrapped his hand around Batman's cock and stroked it with a touch of super-speed so that they came together, crying silently into each other's mouths and spilling over the Batman's armoured suit.

As their bodies calmed, they were left panting together, foreheads bowed together. 

Then Batman kissed his temple and said hoarsely, “Go save your girlfriend.”

Superman's eyes widened and he asked, “We can go?”

“For now.” he replied.

Anger tickled his senses, “For now?”

“Your girlfriend is safe, just make sure she doesn't come to my city again.”

Superman climbed out of his lap and stood up. He put himself away, trying to be dignified. Then he crossed the room, and reached for his cape off the carpet. As he bent over, and his uniform moulded to his ass, Batman growled softly, “Next time, I'll have your sweet ass, Kryptonian.”

A shudder of fear and something else that made him ashamed went through him at those words. He didn't want him to see it, so he leisurely attached his cape, and then turned and met his gaze. “What next time?”

“I said your girlfriend was safe, but this isn't the last time you'll be coming in my city, my pretty alien.”

He wanted to deny it, make some big declaration, and dare him to take him on without a hostage shifting the balance of power. But he couldn't find the bravado, all he could do was meet his gaze and say stoically, “No, I don't think so.”

~*~

His mind returned to the present, Clark shook his head at the memories that didn't belong to him. He breathed deeply, trying to make sense of what had happened to Bruce. What had happened to turn one of the best men that he’d ever known into this monster? What the hell had happened to his reality?

To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

TITLE: Counterpoint 3/8  
PAIRING: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne  
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77  
WORD COUNT: 2,686  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Superman begins the search to find answers.

~S~

His world was upside down and inside out. He didn’t know what to do; hell he didn’t even know what had happened. All he knew for sure was whatever had happened being at the Fortress of Solitude had shielded him for being caught up in the affects. The worst thing was he couldn’t go where he usually went for help when there was a crisis. 

He wasn’t at home. 

He couldn’t go to his own home. When he left the Fortress, he hadn’t even known home was somewhere else. His teammates had told him that he was engaged to Lois, it wasn’t even a shock, she was an incredible woman, and a great friend, and he had easily seen how his steady attraction to her could’ve grown into something more, but the problem was in his reality they hadn’t got together, and from the moment Bruce Wayne had walked into his life, any chance he and Lois had vanished.

Since the kiss by the Batman, he remembered this life and he knew he and Lois were living together in this reality. He knew where, but he couldn’t go there and upset his fiancée. 

If it were any other situation, he knew he could count on Lois Lane, but he couldn’t go there and tell her that he remembered two realities, that he remembered their relationship, that he remembered how much he loved her, but then tell her that he was desperate to fix the world so he could get back to someone else. 

His gaze found the Clocktower, even that was empty and then he saw the time on the clock face. It was late enough that everyone had left work and gone home, so he headed for Metropolis and the Daily Planet building.

He found his and Lois’ office, it was in the same place and then he logged onto his computer, he had some research to do.

~*~

A while later, he’d found out some facts. Thomas and Martha Wayne had died when Bruce was a kid, just the same. There was no record of Bruce graduating high school. He’d disappeared from the public eye as in his reality but when he returned, the Batman that stalked the streets took no prisoners, thieves were maimed, rapists were castrated, and murderers were executed.

To make sure his new memories were right, he checked his own life. The records of his own history he found were exactly the same except the announcement of his and Lois’ engagement in the newspaper that they both worked for. The rest couldn’t be found online; just the same as his own reality, he had made sure the rest of his life when he wasn’t Superman was out of the spotlight. He’d done some random checks on everyone else, the lives of his teammates not connected to Bruce were mostly unaffected and the same, even Lex’s history was the same.

He still couldn't believe that he'd given up on his feelings for Lex all those years ago because he couldn't turn the other way when it came to his scheming, to then end up playing an even more twisted game with Bruce. He couldn't believe that he'd let himself end up fucking about with another super-villain.

So everyone else was the same, however, he couldn’t say the same for the people closest to Bruce, after the Grayson murders, Dick didn’t pop up in the system again; maybe he had just stayed with the circus and stayed out of trouble. He hoped that was the case. Barbara had left Gotham to go to college and never returned to the city. Jim Gordon had been critically injured doing his job and then was retired from the force. 

When he’d remembered the darkness surrounding Wayne Manor and its estate, he’d been prepared for the worst, while hoping Alfred had just returned to England or something. 

He’d not known how to feel when he found an address in Gotham for the old butler. He headed for the address hoping Bruce’s guardian would have some helpful information.

With his cape swishing behind him, he walked down the street and up to the door of a rundown tenement, and knocked. As he waited, his gaze followed the street into the distance, and in that view he saw the Wayne Enterprises tower. He noticed at the top, the light was on in the penthouse. 

A moment later, there was a brusque question asked through the door, “Yes, what do you want?”

So he called, “Mr Pennyworth, I’d like to talk to you about Bruce Wayne.”

“Who are you?”

He noticed a spy hole, and he stepped back so the man inside could see the shield on his chest. 

Suddenly, the sound of three dead bolts unlocking could be heard, and then the door opened a crack, and wary eyes peered out. “You’re Superman?”

It was strange talking to a friend who didn’t know you. He nodded, “Can I come in and talk?”

Ingrained manners resurfaced, and the older gentleman opened the door and motioned him in, “Of course, come on in.” 

Superman entered, and followed him into a small living room. Then he was asked, “Would you like some tea?”

Habitually, he smiled, “Yes, please that would be nice.”

He watched Alfred disappear into his kitchen, and then he looked around at the clean but tattered couch. It was hard seeing someone he cared about brought down to this. He took a seat anyway and waited.

When he returned, the old man carried a tea tray with the works, china cups, teapot, milk, sugar. He watched him place the tray on the coffee table, and noticed a small plate of English biscuits. He swallowed hard wondering when the last time the old man had had a visitor. 

As his host poured the tea, he asked, “Milk, and sugar, sir?”

He had the urge to say, ‘You know how I take it.’ but he didn’t, he answered, “One sugar and a little milk, please.”

A minute later, he was offered the cup, and he took it, “Thank you, Alfred.”

The older man’s eyes darted to him; he saw a question there in his worn eyes. Superman shrugged, and murmured, “I’m going to explain.”

Alfred nodded along and got his own cup of tea. Then said, “Help yourself to biscuits.”

He nodded, and then took a sip of hot strong tea. Alfred took a sip too. Then the silence expanded between them. Finally Alfred asked, “You’ve figured out who he is, and want my help to put him down?”

Sincerely, he said, “I do want to stop what he’s doing, but I want to save him, not hurt him.”

Alfred let out a humourless chuckle, “How can you think he can be saved?”

With his voice rough with emotion, he stated, “Because I can’t do what he’s doing, and that means instead, I’ve got to try to make it right.” He shook his head, “I know who he’s supposed to be, and I can’t let him be what he is now.”

Alfred’s old perceptive eyes measured him, and then he said, “Superman, I know that you are a great hero, and you care for the people of the world, but why do you care so much about someone like Ma…” he choked the end of the sentence off.

Superman smiled, and uttered, “…Master Bruce.”

“Good lord.” Alfred exclaimed quietly.

He told him, “I need your help; I need to know what happened to him, so I know what went wrong, and then I’m going to try to fix it and get him back.”

“Him… back?”

Superman nodded, “The boy you raised and loved, and the hero who’s supposed to be standing by my side.”

In awe, the old man stared at him mutely. Superman smiled and then took another sip of tea. Alfred blinked, and then he mirrored him and took a sip too. Then Alfred put down his cup, and asked, “What do you need to know?”

“Start at the beginning, let me find the differences.”

Alfred asked, “I cannot pretend that I know what on Earth is going on, but you have shown the world that you are a good…” he hesitated, “…man.” Superman smiled, and Alfred continued, “I have got to trust in that. Are you saying that the hero you speak of, you knew him well enough to know the details of his childhood?”

He nodded, “We shared many things over the years, memories, thoughts and feelings.” He said simply, “He’s the man that I love.”

The older man took a quick breath, and asked inquiringly, “He loved you too?”

His lover didn’t say it often, but when the words were spoken it was with understated magnitude. Clark confessed, “Yes.”

He saw a spark of hope there in his eyes, as Alfred nodded slowly, and then began, “His early childhood was just as you might expect of the heir to a billion dollar fortune. I was the butler as well as the family’s private bodyguard. Doctor Wayne was busy working, but they were a happy family.”

Superman commented, “Until the night Bruce’s parents were killed.”

“Yes, I was given the night off; they drove themselves, a proper family outing.” Alfred grimaced, “God, if only I had just been there.”

He understood regrets, and getting swallowed up in what ifs. What if he’d come home earlier, what if he’d picked him up and flew straight to the hospital. He’d learned that sometimes nothing could be done. He coaxed, “It wasn’t your fault.”

Alfred’s lips pinched, “Maybe.” He inhaled and exhaled, “Afterwards, we just tried to soldier on. The boy became withdrawn, and with me being such a novice I assumed he just needed time to grieve. But it didn’t get better. He’d go to school and he’d come home. He didn’t have any friends that I knew of. I don’t know if it was because he couldn’t find any or didn’t want any.”

Clark thought of his own childhood, being so different, being isolated, and feeling like you didn’t belong but desperately wanting to. He thought about his friendship with Bruce and how Bruce had slowly opened up to him, and then embraced their friendship. The real Bruce Wayne wasn’t the life and soul of the party but he was a true and solid friend. 

Superman whispered, “He wanted one.”

The old guardian’s face strained with emotion, and then he cleared his throat, and had a sip of tea. “He had a few fights, and came home with bruises. The headmaster telephoned, and said Bruce was being disruptive in class, being cheeky to the teachers and such.” Alfred looked towards the fireplace, and said thoughtfully, “I didn’t know what to do, I loved the boy but he wasn’t my son. I had been given the responsibility for the child, but I felt caught between being butler, and father, I was both and neither.”

He had always been in awe of Bruce and Alfred’s relationship, for just that reason, but somehow in the reality that Clark remembered it had worked. Alfred looked at him then, and must’ve seen something on his face, because he asked searchingly, “Did I do better for him?”

He didn’t know how to answer that, and shrugged, “He loves you.” he smiled and added, “And you and I share tea at the kitchen table in Wayne Manor.”

At the revelation, Alfred let out a shuddery breath, and then continued on, “I talked with the Wayne family solicitor, and he suggested sending Master Bruce to Excelsior Preparatory, it’s a boarding school in Metropolis.” 

He knew of it, it was where Lionel had sent Lex. From what he’d heard it wasn’t the best place to send a kid who struggled to have friends.

At Superman’s frown, Alfred revealed, “I asked Master Bruce what he thought. He broke down in tears and told me that there would be no more problems if I just let him stay.” 

He hated to think of Bruce scared of being sent away. There been times in his own childhood he’d thought that his parents would be better off without him there causing trouble, and he’d been grateful that they’d never sent him away.

The old man continued, “He stuck to his word, there were no more problems. He became quiet and studious, both at home and at school. Nevertheless by the time he was seventeen years old, everything had begun to fall apart but much worse than before. He began playing truant, coming home late, and frequenting nightclubs that he was too young to enter. He was uncontrollable, and I didn’t have the authority to stop him, after all I was just the butler.”

“He said that?” he asked in surprise.

Alfred tensed his jaw, and said with chagrin, “When he came home intoxicated, yes and much worse. Yet worse was to come. He came home at 2 o’clock in the morning, and at first I thought he was drunk, but when he stepped into the light, I saw the blood splatter across his clothes. When I tried to find out if he was hurt, he told me to stay away from him. He went to bed without explanation. The next morning when I got up, he was gone. I heard nothing for seven years.”

“Did you ever find out what had happened?”

Alfred nodded, “The next day, there was news reports, a fight in a nightclub had ended with the death of three people, the killer was never found.”

“Oh my god.” Superman gasped.

“When he came home after all that time away, he told me of his plan to save Gotham from itself.”

Superman nodded along, and he saw keen eyes watching him. He confirmed what he was thinking, “His plan didn’t involve bloodshed.”

The old man chuckled harshly, “I didn’t think his did, until I realised otherwise. The first time it happened I thought it was an accident, manslaughter. But then someone was castrated, and then another death, and I realised these were no accidents. I confronted him, and I told him that I couldn’t condone murder. He said it was self-defence, that he was fighting a war.” Alfred shook his head, “I know about war, desperate man against desperate man; your mates against the other fellow’s mates. But when it is bombs against infantry soldiers, when it’s a tank mowing down men, then it becomes something else, it becomes slaughter. He never told me where he got the skills, but those skills made what he’s doing slaughter.”

“I know I saw it with my own eyes.” he revealed.

“He told me to get out, that I’d been living off his money long enough, that I was fired.” A desperate sob left the old man’s throat, “I didn’t know you could get fired, when your only occupation was loving someone. In that moment, after all those years, I was just a butler.”

Superman reached out, and caught his weathered hand, “But you still love him, and keep him in sight. He lives at Wayne Tower now doesn’t he?”

Alfred nodded, “I’m a fool. He closed the estate, and moved there. He hasn’t talked to me since that day.”

He squeezed his hand gently, “I can’t say that I can do anything, but I promise I’m going to do everything I can. If I find a way, you won’t remember any of this.”

The guardian said solemnly, “All I can hope for is that you can help him where I could not.”

Superman stood up, and Alfred did too, Clark smiled, and then he stepped closer and he drew the old man into a hug. There was a moment of hesitation, and then his hug was returned. After a moment, Alfred patted his back, “Go on, and save my boy.”

He stepped back and corrected, “Our boy.”

To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

TITLE: Counterpoint 4/8  
PAIRING: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne  
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77  
WORD COUNT: 2,500  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: The team come up with a plan.

~S~

He returned to the Watchtower, there was nothing else to do. However, if anyone could figure it out, and do something about it, then it was the Justice League. He entered the conference room, ready to apologize for just rushing off hours ago with no word since. A part of him expected nobody to be here still, their reality was all they knew, so why wait around for him.

He was surprised, and grateful, when he walked in and found his teammates still here. There were two newcomers, Dr Emil Hamilton, and with surprise, he greeted, “Raven… has something happened to Conner or…?” he bit off the end of the question.

The younger heroine finished it for him, “Or Dick…?”

Superman’s eyes widened and he asked his voice filled with surprise and hope, “You remember Dick?”

Raven’s lips were a grim line, and then she shrugged, “Yes, no, sort of.”

He frowned at the cryptic reply.

She sighed, “I had a premonition. In it I saw a darker world where Dick was dead, and Batman was lost. When I came out of the vision, the darker world was real, and I only remembered Dick from my thoughts during the premonition.”

It was a start, and nodded, “Did you come here because you know how to get the real world back?”

He heard Oliver grumble. He turned and he glared, “Our mission is to help people, one of our teammates needs help.” He swallowed hard, “He’s our friend, and helping him will make everyone in Gotham safer.”

He turned back and waited for Raven to answer.

She grimaced, “I came here because of what I saw, and then J'onn said he could feel it, and you could remember it all. I don’t know what happened but maybe… I don’t know.”

J'onn spoke up, “From what we know, the Batman is the anomaly. To try to figure it out, we believe we need to examine him.”

Superman’s gaze found Dr Hamilton, and he asked, “That’s why you’re here, Emil?”

The diminutive doctor nodded, “We have to cover all bases, physical, psychic…” he motioned to J'onn, “…and magical.” motioning to Raven.

He thought about the stone cold killer on the streets of Gotham, and he shrugged, “I’ll get him, but he’s not going to like it.”

~*~

He found him the same way as before, but this time he appeared in front of him in a blink of his eye. He wasn’t taking any chances, he wasn’t messing about. He saw the surprised look on his face. Superman murmured, “Nighty-night, lover.”

The he flicked his cowl covered head, and he fell into his arms unconscious.

~*~

The members of the Justice League gathered around the restrained man on the sickbay bed like he was a wild animal who’d been darted, and they weren’t sure when he was going to wake up. Superman approached the unconscious figure, and he removed the cowl, and revealed the sleeping angelic face of the bogeyman of Gotham.

Clark reached out and he caressed his temple with his thumb.

Dinah uttered, “Wow, he’s gorgeous.”

He smiled tightly, “Yeah.”

He removed the Batsuit, draped a sheet over him for modesty and then he stepped back and let Emil get to work, giving him a medical check-up. Still, with fascination, everyone stayed and watched. Clark felt a little irritated, hating his lover being a freak on parade, but he had to accept until they figured out how to fix it, that’s what he was.

Clark watched too, he couldn’t look away. The body lying there was the same, except the two big scars were in the wrong places, and most obvious of all was that most of the scars weren’t there at all. He knew why. This Bruce Wayne never let anyone close enough to hurt him, he didn’t trade blows to subdue an enemy to arrest, his foes were dead before it ever got to that. 

When Emil had taken blood and was almost done with his examination, Bruce began to stir, and all the brave fighters of the League jumped away. Clark almost smiled at the incident, but his focus was solely on the man tied to the bed. 

Bruce Wayne’s eyes opened, and closed almost a flutter of dark eyelashes. Then they opened slowly and stayed open. His gaze ticked to everyone in the room, as if putting them on a mental list for later action. His gaze finally stayed steady when he met Superman’s gaze. He was used to intensity in that gaze, but it had never been murderous before.

“You said you weren’t going to kill me.” he said lowly.

“I never said that.” Superman denied.

Bruce’s lips turned up at the edge, and provokingly he revealed, “No, but your pretty eyes did.”

There was a rumble of disquiet in the room at the ‘pretty’ remark. 

Leering, Bruce goaded, “You didn’t tell them about our thing.”

He hated knowing the extent of their interactions, and what their thing was, it was dark and twisted, and it didn’t matter anyway because it had nothing to do with their real relationship. 

He had to focus on the here and now, and what he wanted to achieve. He knew in this reality, Bruce had never let go of his control enough to allow complete access to his body but he'd seen the desire there, so he stepped closer, and he leaned down and provocatively, he whispered into the ear of this cracked version of his lover. “You want me to tell them that I know how much you've always wanted to ride my cock.”

The sickbay bed shook as Bruce wrenched against the restraints, “Fuck off or I’ll kill you.”

Superman straightened up slowly, he hadn’t expected such an overreaction. He smirked down at him, “I love you too.”

Then he stepped away, and glanced at each of his teammates. He said, “This is just a weak shell of the man he’s meant to be.” He turned and met Bruce’s eyes, “My Batman has control, he’d never let you see him losing his shit.”

Bruce glared at him.

Clark smiled, and then turned to J'onn, “Do it.”

J'onn approached, and Bruce snarled, “Don’t touch me you green bastard.”

The Martian Manhunter stoically ignored him and began reading and mapping his mind. Bruce’s face calmed and he gazed straight up at nothing, seeing only what J'onn was searching for. Now quiet and subdued, Raven approached and lifted her hands and she began to do her thing too.

Everyone watched on, and then J'onn morphed into a vision of a young Jim Gordon in uniform, and the man on the bed jerked, and then J'onn looked like Alfred Pennyworth, he too was younger, then J'onn became an unfamiliar teenage boy, and then finally, he was stood before them all looking like Ra’s al Ghul.

Clark stared at the sinister figure, and Victor asked, “Who’s this guy?”

“It’s the guy who trained Bruce, his mentor that he was meant to turn his back on to forge his own destiny.”

After that J'onn returned to his own form. Then he took his hand away and met Clark’s gaze. Then Raven came out of her own trance. With expectation and hope, he asked, “Well…?”

J'onn and Raven met each other’s gaze and seemed to come to an accord. Then J'onn said, “I have located four memories that are the basis for the altered reality.”

“Just four?” he asked with surprise.

Raven agreed, “Four times where your reality was smashed…”

“As if with a hammer...” J'onn explained, “…the damage of each blow splintered out into the rest of his memories, damaging them all.”

From the bed, alert again, Bruce asked, “What the hell are you talking about?”

He purposefully ignored him. “Like the butterfly effect?” he asked. “So did someone tamper with time, to change how things really happened?”

“Nobody’s tampered with me.” Bruce declared. 

Oliver groaned, “Just shut the fuck up.”

The killer on the bed eyed the emerald archer, “Green Arrow, you’re dead when this is over.”

Oliver snorted, “Yeah, bring it on.”

J'onn looked annoyed by the interruption and Clark couldn’t blame him. The empath revealed, “Not that I can sense, it’s as if his memories were just destroyed.”

Just then, Dr Hamilton returned from the lab, and looked both agitated and excited. Victor asked, “Did you find something, Doctor?”

Emil nodded, “After I found the puncture mark on the back of his neck, I was hopeful.”

“I ain’t been hit with anything.” Bruce denied.

The doctor glanced at him, “I’m afraid that isn’t true.” He glanced around at everyone else, “His blood work shows the remnants of a toxin, it appears it crossed the blood barrier in his brain and agitated the memory centres.”

Clark inhaled and exhaled, and asked, “So the toxin corrupted his memories.” 

Raven answered, “It’s more than that, I felt someone ancient and powerful at work. I think the toxin only allowed the memories to be manipulated.”

“Magic…?”

“Yes, strong enough that his new memories weaved a new reality.” she said.

It was foolish to ask, because he knew their lives were never that simple, but he asked anyway, “Can we somehow unpick it, and get the original memories back?”

Everyone was silent; Raven bowed her head and looked at her boots. Everyone else looked away. Then J'onn said it, “Those memories were too damaged.”

Clark swallowed the lump in his throat, and Dinah said aloud what everyone else was thinking, “I’m sorry, Clark.”

From the bed, Bruce uttered, “Clark…?” He turned and looked at the spectre of his lover as he said, “Your name’s Clark?” 

Feeling hurt, angry and mocked, he sneered, “Yeah that’s what you gasp into the pillow. Every. Single. Time.”

Bruce glowered at him, but behind the anger he saw his mind working, ticking away. Even as a brutal killer he was still smart as a whip. Proving, he’d been listening to everything that had been said, the man on the bed laughed, and said huskily, “And in your reality you go down on your knees for me without the pretence don’t you, Clark?”

Dinah scorned, “Leave him alone, asshole.”

Bruce held Clark’s gaze for a long lingering minute, and mutely Clark blinked and licked his lips tensely. Bruce blinked slowly in return, and then turned away and met Dinah’s gaze, and whispered, “Dead.”

Dinah chuckled, “Wow, we’ll all be dead soon, or maybe you will.”

Victor commented, “We’re all dead for speaking our minds, but Clark can say what he wants.”

Heatedly, Bruce met Clark’s gaze again, and quirked his lips, he asked, “You meant it, you love me?”

Clark winced, and acknowledged, “Not you, I love who you’re meant to be.”

The damaged man on the bed confessed, “I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone, not even Talia.”

At the mention of a woman that Clark knew his Bruce had had some feeling for, he asked, “You never turned your back on Ra’s al Ghul did you?”

Bruce’s lip curled, almost familiar, “It’s dangerous to turn your back on anything that can kill you.”

Clark’s chest heaved, and he looked to Raven, “He’s the ancient power, he never got over Bruce walking away from the League of Assassins, and he found a way to change that choice and with it the world.”

Oliver shrugged, “So now we know who did it, how are we going to fix it.”

His gaze found his friend, since reality had been altered he hadn’t felt that closeness with him, but now he felt that connection, the one that had taken a back seat since he’d met Bruce. He felt the comradeship, with the goal to make the world a better place. Clark smiled brightly at his dear friend. Oliver smiled back with fondness. 

Suddenly from the bed, Bruce snarled, “You’ve had him, haven’t you?”

At the accusation, both Clark and Oliver turned and looked at him with surprise. Bruce glowered at them both. “When I get out of here, he’s dead and you’re fucked.”

Anger seared through him, and in a blink of everyone’s eye, Clark had his hand around the throat of the mockery of the man he loved. He sneered down at him, “Shut your disgusting mouth.”

Gazing down into his eyes, he could see something there, something dark and lustful, and possessive. Something uncurled inside Clark, something like an echo of what he was seeing in Bruce’s eyes. He knew what was between them in this reality. He realised that without the affection, without the trust and without the love, the lust between them was still there. 

He glanced at his lips, and then he descended and he kissed this shadow of his lover. 

Bruce growled softly and returned his kiss furiously. But Clark controlled it and made it deep and slow, and Bruce whimpered as he experienced the gentle sensuality for the first time between them.

He heard mutters of disquiet around them as the kiss went on and on. He sobbed against his lips, as the dangerous lust from this reality entangled with the pure love from his own, and then a strong hand was dragging him away. He turned around and met J'onn’s concerned eyes. 

Clark took a heaving breath and then he realised he had tears running down his cheeks.

He wiped them away hastily, and glanced around at his other teammates feeling embarrassed. 

They appeared concerned for him and sad at the same time. 

Finally, the man on the bed called softly, “Clark.”

He met his gaze, and saw a look of surprise and need burning there in his eyes. 

He couldn’t meet the yearning look any longer, and turned back to J'onn and Raven. “Is there any hope at all.”

J'onn replied sagely, “I wasn’t certain before, but sensing the bond between the two of you…”

“Bond…” Clark shook his head, “…not here.”

His friend shrugged, “It might not be the same as what you know, but it’s still there, I feel the raw energy of it. We can use it.”

“How…?” he wondered.

Raven told him, “We think we can use it to remake his memories.”

“You said we couldn’t get his original memories back.”

“We can’t but we can make new ones to replace the damaged ones. Dr Hamilton can agitate his memory centres, I will be the conduit to help you create the new memories, and Raven will focus her powers into remaking reality.”

“And that will fix him; he’ll be as he was?”

J'onn shrugged, “Not exactly as he was, but better than this.”

It felt wrong fiddling about with Bruce’s mind, but J'onn was right. Bruce had already been broken, his only chance was to try to superglue him back together the best that he could.

To be continued.


	5. Chapter 5

TITLE: Counterpoint 5/8  
PAIRING: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne  
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77  
WORD COUNT: 2,829  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Superman begins his mission to save Bruce.

~S~

Superman was laid on a sickbay bed. Next to him was the tied up figure of the twisted version of his teammate and lover. Bruce muttered wryly, “You think after this we’re going to set up house, wear matching sweaters and buy a puppy together?”

He could hear the mockery in his tone. He replied, “Our lives were never that ordinary, I just want to save you.”

There was silence, and Clark turned and met his gaze. Then Bruce muttered, “You’re a fool.”

Clark snorted softly, and then he sighed, “I love you.”

Then J'onn approached and got into position, and then Raven did. Emil came over with a syringe and injected Bruce with the chemical to induce stimulation in the memory centres of the brain. Oliver, Victor and Dinah shuffled about, obviously not knowing what to do with themselves while the mission was going on. Finally, Dinah asked, “Should we leave?”

Raven responded, “No, I might need to borrow some energy.”

They all looked wary, but all nodded their agreement.

Finally, everything stilled. J'onn reminded him, “You’re going to see a glimpse of the corrupted memory, before you create the new one.”

Suddenly nervous, it was a huge responsibility, he asked, “What should I do, how will I know what to do?”

Oliver called over, “Just do what your heart tells you, it’s usually right, Clark.”

Clark smiled softly.

Then J'onn counted backwards from ten… nine… eight…

~*~

Clark opened his eyes, and he saw a dark alley, and in the distance, he could see the two bodies splayed on the ground already. He swallowed hard seeing the dark haired boy sitting between them. He looked so small sitting there. It was the night of the Waynes’ murder. A part of him wished he could’ve stopped it. But this was no place for wishes. 

He didn’t know what to do; he and Bruce had talked about this night, but not in heart breaking detail, not enough to know how this differed from the real version of that dreadful night.

He saw a couple walk by the end of the alley, and he saw the little boy raise his arms in supplication. 

Clark was dismayed to see them step around the distraught boy and carry on. He heard him whimper, “Please help me.”

He felt sick inside, now he knew why this was different, someone had heard the gunshots and the police had come. Bruce had told him how Jim Gordon had been the first person he’d seen and how he had helped him. 

Now there was silence in the distance, there were no police sirens. He didn’t know for sure but he guessed that in this corrupted memory Bruce had been left alone and distraught in that alley with his dead parents for hours.

He understood now, why the Batman didn’t work with the police, didn’t respect authority and didn’t rely on the justice system, because he remembered them failing him so completely.

He heard J'onn inside his head whisper, “It’s time.”

Then all of a sudden there were gunshots and then the Waynes’ were falling dead again in front of him. He heard the heart wrenching, blood-curdling keening from the young boy. 

Clark took a breath, and he glanced down at his uniform. Then with purpose, he strode down the alley, and with his mind’s eye, he dressed himself in his work clothes, a suit and tie; overcoat and black framed glasses.

As he reached the boy sitting between the dead bodies, the sound of his footfalls made Bruce turn and look up, and with wide teary eyes, he sobbed, “They won’t wake up.”

Clark leaned over and hefted the boy into his arms and held him tight, and cooed, “I know, baby.”

Bruce’s little arms wrapped around Clark’s neck and held on. He stepped around the blood and the sightless eyes staring out, and carried his bundle over to a fire escape and he sat down on the step, with the little boy sideways on his lap. He hushed against his forehead, “Shush, it’s going to be all right.”

The fragile voice whispered against Clark’s chest, “They’re dead aren’t they?”

“Yes.” he couldn’t lie.

“I want to go home, I want Alfred.” he sniffled.

“I know, baby, I know.” 

He pondered, and then he reached into his pocket and found his cell phone. He wasn’t sure it was going to work, but he first called 911 to report the shooting, and then he rang the Manor.

The call was answered formally, “Wayne residence.”

Recognising the English accent, he took a breath, “Hello Mr Pennyworth, I’m sorry to inform you but there’s been a fatal incident involving Dr and Mrs Wayne. Can you come to the Gotham police department, Bruce needs you?”

“Good lord, yes I’ll come straight away.” the butler replied.

Clark turned off his phone. If this worked, Jim would arrive as he originally had and Alfred would meet them at the station. He put his phone away, and cradled the boy with both arms. He whispered, “Alfred’s going to meet you at the police station.”

Bruce nodded awkwardly against Clark’s chest. Clark caressed his dark hair. “The police are going to look after you, because that’s what they do, they help people don’t they?”

The little boy’s tears patted out, and he cuddled against him with no fear. Clark smiled at the action, and he kissed the little forehead. “I’m going to stay here and keep you safe until the policeman comes, okay. Then I’ve got to go.” He hated it, but he said, “Don’t tell them I was here, okay.”

The little head moved then he was looking up at him with wide grief stricken eyes. Then he swallowed hard and said quietly, “Okay.”

Then he pressed his face against Clark’s chest again, and feeling overwhelmingly protective, Clark held him tightly against him, and rubbed his back comfortingly. 

After a while, he heard the police siren coming. He lifted them up and he carried him, and whispered, “I’ve got to go now, the police are here.”

The boy nodded stoically. 

With all his love for him, Clark kissed his tear swollen cheek, and then put him down near the entrance to the alley. He realised, he didn’t know where to go in this memory, how to disappear, so he gave Bruce a wave and then he flew off into the sky.

~*~

Once he was out of sight, his mind returned to a neutral plateau. He breathed deeply and waited.

J'onn’s voice spoke in his mind, “Very good, Clark. Are you ready for the next attempt?”

He replied, “Let’s do it.”

~*~

He saw the scene from a distance, it was a fancy prep school, it wasn’t a boarding school like Excelsior, it was a day school and some students were standing around the entrance. He saw Bruce among them; he was about thirteen or fourteen, getting taller but he was adorably gangly. His body had not caught up with a height spurt. 

He watched as cars pulled up in the parking lot, some expensive Mercedes and Beemers and the occasional high-end SUV, along with limos dropping off rich parents with private chef made picnic baskets. Kids greeted their parents. Clark’s gaze found a banner which said, ‘Career afternoon, open house, and picnic.’

Clark’s brow creased and then his gaze found Bruce again, standing there alone in a sea of children and parents. Instinctively, he already knew that nobody was going to come for Bruce. 

He remembered Bruce telling him about what had happened on this day in his reality, Alfred had come. Bruce had told Clark that having someone come that the kids had only seen as his butler had been slightly embarrassing. 

He knew his lover had appreciated Alfred’s gesture looking back with retrospect.

But here in this memory, nobody was coming. Then as all the parents and kids entered the school, another kid lingered behind and socked Bruce in the stomach, and as he was bent over, another punched him on the jaw. They both laughed, one said, “Orphan.” And then other said, “Loser.” and walked away.

Clark remembered sitting on that tattered couch as Alfred had told him that Bruce had got in trouble for fighting at school. This wasn’t fighting. He was being bullied. 

It was the world proving to Bruce that nobody was worth a chance. With the old memory dashed by Ra’s al Ghul orchestration, he knew Alfred couldn’t show up this time.

He felt the preternatural tension around him and knew, he said to J’onn, “I’m ready.”

Then the scene reset, and he watched from a distance as the cars pulled up again. He dressed himself in a white polo shirt and beige slacks. He waited until everyone was ready to go in, and then he stepped out carrying a picnic basket. He adjusted his glasses, and headed up the steps. 

Halfway up, he saw the bullies approaching getting ready to strike. He raised his hand and called, “Bruce.”

The teenager’s head jerked around, and then he saw him. The boy stared at him a long confused moment. Clark saw the instant when that eidetic memory  
recalled the memory. The gangly teenager revealed a smile that Clark knew all too well but most people didn’t. 

Then Bruce sprang towards him, and unknowingly away from the bullies. Clark finished his approach and smiled down at the kid.

With the kind of exuberance that he sometimes told Dick off for, Bruce launched himself into Clark’s arms. Clark chuckled and cuddled him back. 

The other parents eyed their emotional display with distaste and moved along into the school. Clark watched with satisfaction, as the bullies slinked off too. 

Then Bruce tilted his head back and gazed up at him, he said, “I kept your secret, I never told anyone.”

Clark smiled down at him, “I knew I could trust you.” then he motioned to the school, “Come on, let’s go inside.”

They headed into the school building together. They followed the line of parents towards the assembly hall, and at the doorway, a teacher stopped them. She eyed them, and said, “Hello I don’t think we’ve met Mr…”

He took a moment, unsure of how his presence would affect everyone else’s future. He couldn’t use his own name ten years before his first by-line. He removed his glasses and smiled, and said, “Name’s Perry White, I’m a friend of the Wayne family.”

The teacher met his eyes, her mouth opened a touch and then her focus dropped and she gazed too long at his smiling lips and then she coughed softly. “I’m pleased you could be here for Bruce.”

He patted Bruce’s shoulder. 

Then she let them through and Clark and Bruce found a couple of seats. Clark put the picnic basket on the floor between his feet. He could feel intense eyes on him, and he turned and smiled at him. Then Bruce licked his lips and asked, “Is that really your name, Perry White?”

He’d never lied to him and he wasn’t going to start now. He shook his head, “No, it’s the name of a friend of mine.”

The teenager beside him nodded sagely, “I didn’t think so; it doesn’t suit you.”

He leaned in and whispered, “Perry White would be proud of you.”

Bruce’s brow creased, and Clark chuckled, and then Bruce sniggered softly.

It turned out they were in the hall for the career section of the day. So for the next hour, they listened to businessmen, surgeons, charity spokespeople, and one guy who’d got his fortune from land deals. Finally, it was coming to the end, and then the teacher announced, “Our final speaker, Mr Perry White.”

He cringed, and then met Bruce’s gaze. 

“Are you all right?” the teenager asked.

He sighed, “Yeah.”

And he went to stand up, but Bruce grasped his arm, and warned, “You can’t tell them what you really do.”

He really wanted to know who Bruce thought he was, but they could talk later. He winked and then walked up to the stage. He’d never really been fond of public speaking, but sometimes you had to do things for the greater good.

“Hi, kids.” He cleared his throat, there was no way he was going to try and channel Perry. He smiled, “My name is Perry White, and I’m an investigative journalist.”

There were a few sounds of interest from the teenagers in the hall. A journalist had a more exciting job than a stuffy old businessman who was just like most of their mothers and fathers. At the interested sound, Bruce looked around the hall. Realising, he’d helped him gain some street cred, he met Clark’s gaze and smiled.

“I’ve worked for the Washington Post, the Daily Planet, and the Gotham Gazette, and at the moment I’m freelance, which means I travel the world looking for hot topics, and selling my articles to interested newspapers.” 

He went to adjust his glasses and realised he wasn’t wearing them. “There’s three ways to become a journalist, route one is working on your school newspaper, then doing journalism courses when you get to college, if you’re lucky you might get an internship at a paper like the Daily Planet.”

The sounds of interest got louder.

“Another route is to get the editor of a top newspaper to give you a chance. You’ll have to impress him or her, like with your typing skills, or going for a story no one else will look at.” 

He smiled, “The third option is a mixture of the other two, you write for the school newspaper, you do some college courses, but you go after stories no one else will. Investigate and not give up. Sometimes it’s dangerous being a detective without a badge, especially when you’re trying to bring a bad guy to justice. But you’ve got to hang in there because sometimes you can save lives or help a lot of folks.” 

He saw his words were affecting the future detective, he smiled, “When you can do that you’ll get the job.” he shrugged, “You might have to start in the basement, but one day you’ll get your by-line on the front page. And if you’re really good on a Pulitzer Prize.”

The audience clapped and cheered a little. 

He was glad he’d made a good impression. He motioned to the audience, “I think my friend Bruce Wayne and I are hungry for that picnic, how about you lot.”

He saw everyone nod along and then turn and look at Bruce with admiring eyes. Then he got down from the stage, and returned to where Bruce was. 

The teacher came along and said, “That was great.” Then she turned to everyone, “Let’s go out to the sports field and have our picnic, like Mr White suggested.”

Bruce stood up, and picked up the hamper, and then everyone headed out.

~*~

At the field, the marching band played a tune while everyone set out their blankets and food. Clark did the same, and creatively imagined a picnic spread prepared by his mom, including fried chicken, cherry pie and orange juice. 

As he finished setting up, and sat down, he found Bruce was watching him intently. Clark smiled, “What…?”

“How do you know about being a journalist?” Bruce asked curiously as he sat on his haunches there on the blanket.

He shrugged, “Maybe I am one.” The he teased, “What do you think I am Bruce?”

The teenager glanced down shyly, “Maybe a superhero, but they’re not real or…”

With delight, he urged, “Or…?”

Then Bruce glanced up through his eyelashes, “Or you’re my guardian angel.”

He reached out and caressed his cheek, and said, “Maybe I’m both.”

The teenager met his gaze then, and then suddenly he lunged, and his lips met Clark’s clumsily. Clark was still with shock and then Bruce pulled back and cringed, “I’m sorry.”

He could tell, it was quite obvious really that this was Bruce’s first kiss. It had never occurred to him to kiss a fourteen year old boy ever. It was so wrong, but this boy was going to grow into the man that Clark loved, and he didn’t want his first kiss to be something that embarrassed him. 

Clark reached out again and he caressed his cheek with his thumb, and then guided his lips to his. He kissed him gently, and chastely, once, twice and then he guided him away again. The lovely gangly teenage boy’s eyelids fluttered open and he gazed at him adoringly. 

Clark blinked slowly, and then murmured, “Try some of my mom’s fried chicken.”

Bruce chuckled softly, and then sat up straight and reached for some fried chicken. He bit into it with joy sparkling in his eyes.

To be continued


	6. Chapter 6

TITLE: Counterpoint 6/8  
PAIRING: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne  
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77  
WORD COUNT: 2,782  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Clark attempts to fix the third corrupted memory.

~S~

He’d returned to the neutral plateau after sharing a picnic with a teenaged Bruce. As the other parents had set off home with the kids, Clark had ushered a cheerful Bruce towards the front of the school where Alfred picked him up every day. Then he disappeared just as before.

With optimism, Clark was ready for his next salvage attempt. But then he witnessed the third memory that had been twisted by Ra’s al Ghul’s will.

The scene was before him, a dimly lit nightclub filled with riving bodies, some dancing, most packed together at the bar and around tables. Clark’s eyes scanned the place, and came to rest on the person he was here to find. 

He was older, yet still a teenager, he had gotten taller, and his body had grown broader to match his height. Yet he was still slim compared to the highly tuned athlete that was behind the Batsuit in this boy’s future.

Looking handsome, Bruce’s moussed hair was styled, and he was dressed up in black jeans and a very dark blue dress shirt. He seemed to be with a group of friends laughing, and drinking. He’d estimate his age to be eighteen, so he wasn’t legal to drink. But that wasn’t stopping him. 

He knew Bruce rarely really drank in his adult life, though everyone else thought he overindulged. He wondered if the kid was enjoying it or if he was just trying to fit in with his peers.

His questions were answered with dismay as Bruce produced a wad of cash, and loudly asked his group who wanted another round. It was obvious he was trying to show off. The other boys parents were wealthy but they might not have as easy access to the cash. Then Clark’s gaze narrowed as he recognised two of the boys in the group, they were older too but they were certainly the two bullies from the earlier memory.

Clark knew from experience that a friend didn’t always stay your friend, and he knew sometimes a bully could turn out to be a decent guy. He hoped the latter was true in this case, but he doubted it after all this was a twisted memory.

He watched as out of sight one of the boys shot Bruce and his money a dirty look and then took something from his own pocket. Clark saw it was some kind of tablet and then the guy put it in his own mouth. Seconds later, he slinked up to Bruce, got in close and then he kissed Bruce right in front of the other boys. 

He watched as Bruce stilled in surprise before he accepted the kiss. Clark saw his throat work as he swallowed the tablet the other kid had passed to him in the kiss. 

Whatever it was it worked fast because when the kiss ended, his skin was flushed, and Bruce looked at the boy with euphoria in his now dilated eyes. Clark watched as eagerly Bruce reached for the boy again, but when he tried to kiss him the boy pulled away.

Bruce was obviously confused by the rejection. Then another boy caught Bruce’s hand and began leading away to the back of the club. Bruce dizzily stumbled but went with the boy willingly. 

Clark watched as the other boys met each other’s gazes, with not very nice smirks on their faces, and then turned and followed. 

Clark felt ill with foreboding. He didn’t want to see, but he had no choice. He was now looking at a back room where there was an old pool table. He saw the boy who’d led Bruce away, kiss him. Bruce accepted excitedly, but when the other boys followed them in, Bruce turned out of the kiss and dizzily asked them what they were doing.

The only answer he received was the boy who he’d been kissing, grabbing him and pushing him hard against the pool table. Bruce struggled to get up, but the other two boys came and pushed him face down, and held him down. 

Defiantly, Bruce shouted angrily for them to let him go. But when the boy came up behind him, reached around and began unzipping Bruce’s jeans, Bruce’s eyes widened with clarity. He struggled, and he cried in horror, “No, please, no please don’t do this.”

One of the boys grabbed a handful of Bruce’s hair, and whispered menacingly, “You always wanted to us to like you, didn’t you Wayne?”

Clark felt useless, it was a memory and he couldn’t do a thing. This was why the adult dark version of Bruce had reacted so badly to Clark’s goading about him enjoying riding him. This was why he’d hurt Superman; because Bruce's attraction to him had made him have to confront his sexuality. 

Enraged, Clark wanted to kill them.

He watched as Bruce struggled and wouldn’t give up. It wasn’t in his nature to give up. One of the attackers smashed Bruce’s head against the green felt of the pool table. Bruce was disoriented but his fingers were stretching, scratching and reaching, and then finally he got hold of a pool cue, and with an adrenaline fuelled surge of strength he smashed the cue into the arm of one of them holding him down. 

The guy screamed and let go, and Bruce whacked the other one across the head with the cue. It cracked and splintered.

With his arms both free, he pushed up and turned and he used the jagged end of the cue to stab the one with his pants down in the neck.

Blood spurted across Bruce’s clothes, and anger and fear, and the drugs, and alcohol combined, and in a frenzy, Bruce slashed and stabbed them all down.

Until Bruce was standing over their dead bodies, breathing raggedly, covered in their blood. Finally, he dropped the crimson covered cue, and he fastened his jeans up and then he ran.

He knew this was the night Alfred spoke of, the night he came home late, and then ran away from home, and disappeared from Alfred’s life.

He heard J'onn’s voice in his head, “You’ve got to calm down, Clark.”

He knew his rage couldn’t solve anything, so he replied, “Come on let’s do this.”

Then the scene reset. 

~*~

For this memory, he dressed himself in tight black jeans, and a matte black silk dress shirt, and he left his glasses off. He made his way through the heaving crowd. He had him in sights by the time he got out his wad of cash. He made his approach as the boy put the tab in his mouth. The boy reached out to Bruce and Clark did the same. 

Each had a hand on Bruce, each vying for his attention, Bruce’s gaze went to the boy he was with and then he glanced back to see Clark standing there. There was a moment of uncertainty in his eyes. Then he saw him check out Clark from toe to head, and then a glorious smile touched his lips. 

For a second, the other boy tugged on Bruce’s other arm, but Clark wasn’t taking any chances. He pulled Bruce into his embrace and away. Bruce’s body pressed to his, and he met his gaze so close. Now Bruce was at his full height they were eye to eye. Then they were mouth to mouth, as Bruce kissed him. 

Whether it was right or wrong, he felt better about it than the chaste kiss that he shared with a fourteen year old at the picnic. Clark opened his mouth and kissed him back slowly and sensually. The young man in his arms, moaned softly, and Clark ended the kiss gently. 

Over Bruce’s shoulder, he saw the would-be rapists were not looking happy at their plan being thwarted.

With pride, Clark smiled smugly, and then returned his gaze to Bruce. He whispered, “Do you want to dance?”

Bruce nodded at him starry-eyed. Then Clark caught his hand and led him to the dance floor, and they came together and danced slowly. 

The young man who one day was supposed to be his partner, pressed his body to Clark’s and looped his arms around Clark’s neck. They smiled at each other. Then Bruce murmured, “You always come when I need you, why are you here now?”

He snorted softly, “You’re a very clever boy.” Bruce’s brow creased at him calling him a boy. Clark chuckled, and pulled him closer, “But you’re not clever enough to know you can’t buy friends, and you can’t trust anyone just because you want them to like you.”

Bruce blinked, and then he looked over his shoulder at the boys he’d been with. Then he asked, “You’re saying I can’t trust them?”

He hated the idea of making Bruce mistrust friendship, but it was better that than what he had witnessed before.

As he swayed them, he murmured into his ear, “You have to judge people on their actions throughout your history with them, not just their words in the moment.”

Bruce laid his head on Clark’s shoulder, and whispered, “I’ll remember.”

Clark sighed contentedly, and swayed them to the music. After a few minutes of closeness, Bruce’s hand ran over Clark’s back and then down over his denim covered ass. He scolded softly, “Bruce.”

They were body to body and he felt a hardness grow against him, and knew the boy was getting excited. Bruce murmured against his shoulder. “You look sexy as hell for an angel.” 

He smiled at the inelegant compliment, coming from the man he knew as his suave lover. He told him, “You look really nice too, very dapper.”

Bruce raised his head from his shoulder and met his gaze with soulful eyes, searching to see if he was making fun of him. Clark returned that gaze earnestly. Clark said huskily, “You’re growing into a beautiful man.”

He saw his chest heave, and then Bruce was kissing him again. After seeing the horror of the dark reality, being with Bruce when he was as sweet as his own Bruce could be in private felt so good. Clark held onto his waist and with his other hand caught his head and he kissed him back.

Bruce whined softly, and panted, “Can we be alone?”

He wasn’t sure he was doing the right thing, but getting Bruce out of here and safely back to the Manor was the priority. He caught Bruce’s hand and took it away from his ass, and then led him out of the club.

~*~ 

They’d found Bruce’s car, and then Clark had driven them back to the estate. He pulled the car into the garage. 

When they got out the car, Bruce threw himself at him, and smothered him with frantic kisses. Clark stifled a chuckle and pulled back and caught Bruce’s groping hands. He said, “We can’t do this.”

Bruce pouted, “Why not?”

Clark chuckled, “You think I’m an angel, do you think angels are allowed to do this.”

That stopped Bruce in his tracks, and he looked bashful, and he looked down mumbling, “I guess no…t.” his gaze locked on Clark’s crotch. 

Clark licked his lips nervously, knowing exactly what Bruce was looking at. 

Bruce met his gaze again and reached out at the same time, “I must be wrong about angels, or you’re not an angel.”

Bruce’s palm made contact with the bulge in Clark’s tight black jeans. Clark took a hissing breath at his touch. He said gravelly, “I’m here to look after you.”

The beautiful teenager leaned in and whispered, “I want you to look after me.”

His willpower was hanging by a thread, any other kid and it would never cross his mind, his nostrils flared and then he pulled him to him, and hefted him up into his arms. Bruce whimpered and wrapped his legs around Clark’s waist. Clark took his mouth with desire.

Bruce kissed him back passionately, and writhed against him, feeling each other’s hardness, before Bruce pulled away gasping, “Come to my room.”

He moaned, “I can’t… Alfred… oh god.”

“Please.” he beseeched softly.

It was one word but it meant so much.

He knew he was trying to fix reality, but a part of him was scared; what if he didn’t manage it, what if he couldn’t save him. He’d never get to be with the man he loved ever again.

He had an idea, and he let Bruce down, grasped his hand and led him across the manicured lawns to the summer house. 

He was probably doing the wrong thing, his lover had told him that he’d lost his virginity to a friend from school, it had been awkward and fumbling but it hadn’t been a bad experience. He didn’t know if the memory of that boy had been warped by Ra’s al Ghul into one of tonight’s rapists, but he could guess that the nice memory had been shattered, and was unrecoverable.

God he wanted, no he needed Bruce’s first time to be something special, something to look back on fondly. He could do that, he could make love to the man he loved.

They got to the summer house, and when they entered, he switched a single lamp on. He didn’t want Alfred coming to investigate. He turned to meet Bruce’s gaze. Then he went and took a seat on the bed. He murmured, “Come here.”

The teenager licked his lips nervously, and then he walked to the bed. He didn’t sit down; he fell to his knees in front of Clark. Bruce was looking at him with devotion in his eyes. Clark reached out and caressed his smooth cheek, “My god.”

Bruce bowed his head and pressed his lips to the bulge in Clark’s jeans. Clark groaned and carded his dark hair with his fingers. He guided him away gently, and Bruce looked up at him. Holding his gaze, Clark smiled, toed his shoes off and then lay back on the bed.

He saw awe in his eyes. 

He wasn’t going to take anything; it was up to Bruce what he wanted, and what he was willing to give. Slowly, with some kind of understanding, Bruce blinked.

There was a mixture of fear, excitement and also lust on his face as Bruce climbed on the bed. He crawled until they were face to face, crotch to crotch. Bruce leaned down and kissed him.

Then he bowed his head and he kissed Clark’s throat. Clark moaned as inexperienced lips found his sensitive spot instinctively. He felt Bruce smile with pride against his flesh. God it was him, years younger, not as skilful but god it was definitely him.

He felt Bruce come to rest, sitting on his crotch, and he moaned softly at the exquisite pressure. Bruce lifted his head and gazed down into Clark’s eyes.

Then with a confidence fuelled by desire, he braced his hands against Clark’s chest, and ground down in a rolling motion. His eyes were intense; feeling Clark’s cock hard under him. 

Clark’s hands found slim hips, and he carefully guided the motion, enjoying Bruce riding him, even if it was through two layers denim and cotton. Clark got even harder, and the arc of Bruce’s rolling hips got wider, and then Bruce gasped and whimpered as his cock got stimulated too, hard against Clark’s trapped length, hard against the pressure in his own jeans.

Clark reached up with one hand, cupped his jaw and guided him down, his lips to his. Before they touched, Clark asked huskily, “Do you like riding me?”

Bruce’s eyes flared at the question and then he sighed, “Yes.” before kissing Clark’s lips.

Clark groaned into his mouth and then Bruce echoed his groan, and then his nimble young fingers unfastened Clark’s jeans. When those fingers reached in to release Clark’s length, he felt them trembling. 

He reached for Bruce’s hips again and he urged him to keep grinding onto him with his denim clad ass. Bruce did as he wanted and kept moving, teasing Clark’s bare length. While he did that, Clark flicked open the buttons of Bruce’s jeans and released his hard cock to stand proudly in the v of his open fly. Clark knew it so well, and it seemed even more impressive than usual set against a slimmer body.

Bruce gazed down at himself bashfully, and Clark coaxed, “There’s no need to be shy with that in your pants, baby.”

At the compliment, Bruce smiled proudly.

To be continued.


	7. Chapter 7

TITLE: Counterpoint 7/8  
PAIRING: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne  
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77  
WORD COUNT: 2,718  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the story.  
SUMMARY: Clark continues his mission.

~S~

Clark murmured to the youth straddling him who was smiling down at him with macho pride, “Lift up, baby.”

Bruce frowned, but moved off him to the side, kneeling on the mattress. 

Clark sat up and unbuttoned his own black shirt, and slipped it off. Then he pushed his own jeans and boxers down and off. Then nude he laid down fully on the bed inside the summer house. 

When Clark met his gaze, Bruce said huskily, “You look like an angel.”

He smiled slowly, and watched as Bruce eagerly reached for his own shirt buttons, and took off his shirt. Then he got off the bed and did the same with his jeans, and boxer’s. The young man standing there was finely muscled, compared to his future self but Clark found him still enticing.

Huskily, Clark told him, “Now come here.” 

With careful eagerness, Bruce climbed on the bed, and crawled back up Clark’s body. Then he gazed down expectantly and Clark brought him down and kissed and mouthed his throat. Bruce bared his throat for him and he felt Bruce’s hand grab his hair and hold on. “Oh god.” he cried.

Then with panting breath, Bruce pulled away and made a path of hungry kisses down Clark’s naked body. Clark knew where he was going, he almost felt guilty, but not enough to stop him, if that’s what Bruce wanted to experience.

When Bruce reached Clark’s cock, he took it into his mouth straight away, wrapped his lips around it and sucked slowly. Clark’s fingers twined in his hair, and he looked down and watched his lips stretched around him. Bruce looked up and met his gaze, looking for approval and he made a questioning little sound around the thick hard flesh filling his mouth. 

Clark praised him hoarsely, “Yes baby.”

At his words, Bruce half smiled half sobbed, and took more of the length, and sucked harder. Clark tensed his jaw, and continued watching as his cock grew and throbbed in that novice mouth. Bruce had always been good at learning new skills, and his growing confidence in this act proved it. 

With their gazes still locked, Clark’s body moved instinctively, and he thrust slowly through those lips and over his tongue again and again. He praised, “You’re doing so well, baby.”

Bruce's eyes sparkled and he blinked slowly and hummed around him.

He recognised that look in his eyes and that satisfied hum and Clark grinned, “Are you enjoying yourself?”

Bruce groaned, and then pulled off tortuously slowly, and when his lips left Clark’s cock, Bruce nodded and panted, “Yes.” 

He murmured, “Come here, I want you.”

Bruce’s eyes widened and he reached up to him; his lips hovered over his eagerly. Clark grinned at him, and then he turned them over, and covered his mouth with his. Sharing the passionate kiss, they echoed each other’s groan, and then Clark set off, mirroring what Bruce had done. 

He licked and kissed down his slim torso, sucking his nipples before moving on. He tickled his abdomen with his lips and tongue and made the young man squirm delightfully. Then finally, he held his gaze as he sucked his generous hard cock into his mouth. 

The inexperienced youth gasped in response, bucked, and cried, “Oh shit.” at the feeling.

Clark laughed around the girth, and then he sucked his cock with finesse until Bruce was trembling with a fistful of Clark’s hair wrapped around his fingers. 

Clark pulled away, but Bruce’s fingers were stiff and held on, anyone else it would’ve hurt. He met his gaze seriously and with understanding Bruce slowly released him from his death grip. 

Clark moved and sat up against the headboard, and cocked an eyebrow, “I guess you enjoyed that.”

Keen watchful eyes watched him, while panting harshly, his hard cock at full attention in front of him and then Bruce nodded slowly. 

There was a moment of stillness and then Bruce lunged and kissed him in a flurry, and pleaded, “Will you… please god, will you… fuck me.”

Bruce pulled back and gazed at him willing him to say yes.

He held his gaze seriously, and then he pursed his lips. He was almost the same, the only difference was his lover was more likely to demand to be fucked, not beg. 

Swiftly, Clark reached for him, and then he spun the young body around. Bruce gasped, and he had to press his hands to the mattress so he didn’t fall over. 

Clark chuckled, and then he gazed at the ass now presented to him. It was tightly curved and round, not the exquisite work of a million squats and lunges yet. But it was nice, and sweet. He caressed the small globes, and then he spread them. He groaned at what he saw and he pressed in and pulled Bruce back to him with his hips at the same time and he licked him there.

Bruce let out a shocked little gasp, and Clark rewarded him with another slow lick and then a quick flail of his tongue. He heard Bruce grunt softly, before he felt him press back, wanting more. 

Clark was quite willing to give him everything. He licked, and kissed it over and over, and Bruce pressed back, wanting it so much that he was almost straddling Clark’s face, and grinding for his strong tongue.

Clark reached for and stroked Bruce's cock at the same time, and Bruce sat up, holding Clark’s head and writhed against his tongue until he heard him panting quietly, “Oh please, yes. I want it god, I want you, please.”

He moved them then, and he laid Bruce out on his back, staring up at him from the mattress with worshipfulness. Clark caressed his cheek with devotion. Then Bruce mouthed almost silently, “Please.”

Clark collected some pre-come for the tip of Bruce’s erection, and he smeared it against his yielding entrance. With their gazes locked, he lined up, and he watched Bruce’s eyes flare with pain and ecstasy as Clark entered him. He took hold of Bruce's hard length and he stroked it, slow and steady. His young lover whimpered as he withdrew, and gasped as he entered him again. 

He kissed him, as he went deeper, stretched him open and Bruce’s louder gasp was muffled by his lips. Clark murmured, “Okay?”

He gazed down into his dazed eyes, and Clark's moist lips hovered over Bruce's as he thrust slowly with his tight ass clinging to him, until Bruce’s breath caught on a shocked, “Yeah.”

Then Bruce’s lips remembered how to smile, and he bucked up to meet him. Then he panted, “Yes, oh shit, yes.”

Clark returned that smile, “Yes, there you go, baby.”

He let his hips roll, and Bruce’s hands grasped and held on to his ass, needy and desperate. Once the pleasure started there was no slowing down. Clark watched him intently, watching him drown in pleasure, gasping for air. He played his thumb against the leaking sensitive tip of his cock and he thrust his own throbbing cock into his sweet, responsive body until Bruce shuddered under him, and came between them.

He’d have loved to fill him up, but he knew he probably couldn’t stay and help him with his first intimate clean up. So he pulled out and he shot hard over his slim torso, shaking and gasping as if it was his own first time.

As he stilled, he saw Bruce watching him with amazement on his face. Clark chuckled breathily, and then he rolled over and pulled him with him, and snuggled them together.

Bruce sighed against his neck, “That was the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He held him, and murmured, “Yes baby, it was wonderful.” and he kissed him softly.

After Bruce had fallen off to sleep, with his cheeks still hot with exertion, looking beautifully satisfied, Clark kissed his flushed cheek, and then slipped away.

He still wasn’t sure, he’d done the right thing, Oliver had told him to follow his heart, and that’s what he’d done. He heard J'onn inside his head, “Are you ready for this, Clark? This last one will decide everything.”

“Yes, J'onn, I’m ready.”

~*~

The mountain was white, and sparsely populated with trees. The top of the mountain was treeless; as if anything that cold could support life. But that’s exactly what Clark was seeing. Somewhere in the Himalayas, not far from the League of Assassins training ground, Bruce Wayne was staked down in the snow, alone and almost naked. The clothes he wore did nothing to protect him against the cold. 

His body was blue and beyond shivering. Was this a test of endurance, Clark didn’t know. He didn’t know if Bruce had endured such a trial in his own reality, or if this was a new scheme to break Bruce’s will. He could see that it had snowed, the tracks made by the people who had left Bruce here were only shallow indents now covered by the snow fall.

It told him that Bruce had been out here alone for hours, freezing to death.

It reminded him of the corrupted version of the night of the Waynes’ murder, Bruce being left in that alley for hours, alone with no help, no one to turn to. It was all to reinforce the notion that Bruce couldn’t rely on anyone.

He saw the mistiness of breath escaping his mouth cease, and Clark knew he was dead. Clark didn’t understand; how could he be dead?

The scene turned to darkness just as Bruce’s light was extinguished. 

Suddenly, he could see again, and he saw Bruce break through the water, gasping for breath. Disorientated, but with a primal instinct of survival, he clamoured to the edge of the Lazarus pit and he dragged himself out. He was in a cave, lit up by flaming torches. As Bruce got to his knees, a dark beautiful young woman came forward and wrapped a blanket around the raggedly gasping man. He collapsed in her arms, and she held him, and cooed in his ear, “Hush now, beloved.”

Bruce raised his face, and looked up into her dark eyes, he stared wildly, “I thought I was dead.”

She caressed his cheek, “No my love, you are mine, you’re too strong to let death defeat you.”

Clark’s jaw tensed knowing now how Ra’s al Ghul and his daughter had kept Bruce close. The first memory had turned him away from justice, the second convinced him he couldn’t rely on anyone, the third that he couldn’t trust anything, not even his own sexuality, and this fourth reinforced the rest, and then the Lazarus pit had seared those lessons into him, and finally cracked his mind.

He wasn’t going to let that happen, hopefully he’d fixed the other memories, and now this was his final chance. He said to J'onn “I’m ready.”

The memory reset, and he hovered above the mountain side. His mind redressed him in the traditional Kryptonian tunic and robes of white, and he floated down to the freezing man. As he stepped down onto the snow, it crunched under his feet. It was the only sound in the desolate place, and Bruce opened his eyes slowly.

His pupils dilated when he saw him, and he said with a shaky rattling breath, the cold air burning his throat, “I knew you were an angel. I’m dead aren’t I?”

Clark smiled, and then he knelt down in the snow, and declared, “Not yet, Bruce Wayne.”

He snapped the freezing shackles at his wrists, that were pinning him to the frozen ground, and then he gathered the cold body into his arms, and held him close. 

With his teeth chattering, Bruce groaned and snuggled against his body heat. “So cold.” he brrred.

“I know, baby.” he soothed the fully grown man.

He blinked slowly, and then he let his heat-vision flare amber and he bathed him in life preserving warmth. Afterwards, he gazed down into Bruce’s now more alert searching eyes, and said, “Death began this journey to this place, but death isn’t the answer, life is, preserving life.”

Bruce whispered, “I’ve learnt to kill, it’s all I know now.”

“You want to be the same as the man that killed Thomas and Martha?”

“No, I want to stop people who hurt others.”

Clark smiled, “So don’t be. Use these skills you’ve learnt to save life, and bring those bad people to justice.”

Bruce shook his head, “Justice is a lie, a fantasy.”

He leaned down and he kissed his lips chastely, and then with resoluteness in his voice he whispered, “I am justice, come and stand by my side.”

Warming hands cupped his head and brought their mouths together, and Clark kissed him with all the love he had for him. 

In the distance, he heard people moving on the mountainside and knew they were coming to collect the corpse that they expected to find there. 

He ended the kiss carefully, and he caressed his cheek with his thumb. “I’ve got to go now.”

Bruce looked pained at his departure.

Clark smiled with affection, and then he stood up, and then he floated up into the air, his white robes billowing like his cape, and he told him, “I’ll be waiting for you, Batman.”

Then he flew away.

~*~

Clark opened his eyes, and looked up at the sickbay ceiling. He remembered where he was. He turned and he saw J'onn step away, and he saw Raven lower her arms, her powers rescinding. He turned his head and he saw Bruce lying on the other bed, eyes closed.

A little dizzy, he sat up, and swung his legs down. He asked, “Did we do it?”

From across the room, he heard sighs of relief in multiple. He turned and he saw Oliver, Dinah, and Victor over there looking relieved. Clark’s heart skipped as he saw that with them was Dick, and Diana. He asked, “You’re both here, does that mean…?”

J'onn spoke, “It means we have managed to heal the fractured reality that you were trapped in.”

With confusion, he asked, “That I was trapped in, are you saying you think there was something wrong with me?”

Raven told him, “At that place in space and time, reality was smashed, the reality you knew as your own, the one you found yourself in, and this remade reality existed all at once for a moment.”

“So it was real…?” he asked.

“Yes, but only you remember all of it. Our friends here only remember this reality.” she told him.

“But you…?” he wondered.

Raven gave him a small smile, “I remember a glimpse of all that you have seen but I lived only in this reality.”

His gaze found his teammate on the other bed, “He only remembers this reality too?”

At that moment, Bruce’s eyelashes fluttered, and his eyes opened slowly and saw him there. A soft smile came to his lips and in his eyes and he whispered, “Hello angel.”

Clark’s heart thundered and he stared mutely. Did he remember, had he recognised him the day that he met Superman for the first time in this new reality, and what did that mean for their relationship. At his silence, Bruce frowned and he pushed himself up. Clark noticed he wasn’t tied down. 

Then Bruce reached for his hand, “Clark, are you okay?” he looked searchingly at J'onn, “Is he okay?”

“I feel his confusion but he is safe and well.” the Martian Manhunter replied.

Gently, Bruce asked, “Clark, you do remember me, don’t you?”

He realised that here and now, it must’ve been Bruce helping him through the situation, not the other way around. J'onn had been using Bruce’s will to bring Clark to this reality. He nodded, “Yes, I know you.”

He could tell by his face that Bruce wasn’t completely certain. Bruce stood up, and he gingerly pulled Clark into a fierce hug. Clark sighed and relaxed against his body. He still wasn’t sure what they shared; this could be a brotherly hug for all he knew.

To be continued


	8. Chapter 8

TITLE: Counterpoint 8/8  
PAIRING: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne  
AUTHOR: Whiteroses77  
DISCLAIMER: I only own the stories not the characters.  
WORD COUNT: 3,023  
SUMMARY: Has Clark been able to save reality?

~*~

Bruce’s lips caressed his temple, and Clark raised his face and then Bruce kissed his lips tenderly. As his lips pressed to his, Clark was jolted, and suddenly his mind was inundated with a lifetime of memories. The ones from before meeting Bruce were replicas of the memories from before. Most from after meeting Bruce were completely new, some were bad, but most were good, really good. 

He remembered the night that they'd met in this new reality. 

It was after the deadline, and Clark and Lois were putting on their coats ready to go home. His friend smiled and asked, “Do you want to go and get a drink?”

He cringed slightly, “You know I don't really drink, Lois.”

Lois Lane smirked at him, “You don't have to drink booze, Smallville.” then she tilted her head playfully, “Okay, would you like to come to the bar with me and watch me drink a beer while you have a soda?”

He rolled his eyes with fond exasperation.

“Well?” she urged.

Clark nodded, “Yeah, okay.”

~*~

They were at an upscale bar, that had a great view of the Metropolis cityscape. They were standing closely, looking out from the balcony. It was nice being here with Lois. He turned and gazed at her profile. The lights from the bar, and the shadows highlighted his friend's features. He blinked slowly, it was times like this that he noticed how lovely Lois Lane really was.

He'd felt it before, and now he had the urge to reach out and caress her cheek, but before he could, the sound of an explosion caught his attention. “What was that?” he wondered.

Moving into super-speed, he turned and looked across the skyline of Metropolis. With his telescopic vision, he saw in the distance the spark of ignition and fire flame to life.

When he returned to normal speed, Lois asked with confusion, “What was what?”

He swallowed hard and told her, “An explosion, in Gotham. I've got to go.”

His friend nodded and urged, “Then go.”

He nodded, glanced around making sure nobody could see, and then he leapt off the balcony, and Superman flew into the night sky heading for Gotham.

As he flew, he considered the fact that Gotham didn't have it's own patron hero, well not one who was out the closet and in front of the public anyway. There had been rumours that there was someone out there that had taken up the cause of Gotham. Even if the rumours were true, Clark didn't know what their abilities were, and while there were people in Gotham who needed help, he wasn't going to ignore them to spare someone else's ego.

He followed the flames to one of the tallest buildings in Gotham. By following Lex's and Oliver's companies in the business section, he recognised the Wayne Enterprises tower. 

He scanned it with his X-ray vision, and saw there was a few people inside spread out amongst the floors. It was the top of the building that was on fire, actually there didn't seem to be a top left. He recognised that the people below would be safe to escape once the fire was out, once it couldn't burn down to them, and block their exits.

He alighted down onto a balcony, and then he entered the fire ravaged rooms. They were open to the night sky, completely blown away. With fire flickering and dancing about, he turned in a circle and he blew the fire out with his breath.

As the flames extinguished, out of nowhere a cascade of water came flooding down from above. In time to stop himself being drenched, Superman turned his breath colder, and the water froze.

He was left standing in a room that was a weird echo of the Fortress of Solitude except the shafts of crystalline ice were pointed down instead of up.

Just when he began to wonder where the water had come from, he heard a sound. Outside what was left of the French windows, he saw a black aircraft. Then he saw the pilot, and the pilot saw him.

The black cowl wearing man's eyes widened, and then the door of his plane was being opened and he got out onto the balcony. He left his plane hovering there, and walked into the room with his black cape swirling dramatically. 

The other man glanced around at the icicles, if he was surprised it didn't show because his main focus was Superman. Then when he was standing in front of him, the other man said roughly, but with an odd hitch to his breath, “It's you?”

Superman stood tall and said, “Yeah, um... I'm Superman.”

Intensely gorgeous eyes stared out at him from behind that black mask, and Superman's skin goose bumped in response. Those eyes blinked, and then he uttered, “You don't know me, do you?”

He smiled, “I guess the rumours are true, you must be the Batman.”

“Just Batman, not 'the'.” he told him.

Superman swallowed to wet his dry mouth, and repeated, “Batman.”

The other man stepped closer, and nervously Superman tried to explain, he pointed towards the plane, “I didn't realise... you had that... I just wanted to help.”

God, he didn't even know why he was so nervous, it wasn't as if he was scared of him. Then a black gloved hand reached out and caressed Superman's cheek. He didn't know why but he let him. At the touch, his eyes blinked slowly, heavy lidded.

Batman's nostrils flared and he stepped back, and said stoically, “Thank you for your help.”

Superman nodded along, “Any time.”

Batman turned and headed back to his plane, and Superman didn't know what else to do, so he took to the skies. 

~*~

Clark returned to the bar where he'd left Lois. For the rest of the evening, they had a nice time. When Clark told Lois about his encounter, Lois asked, “Do you think we should write an article about him?”

Clark shrugged, “I don't know, he might not want the publicity.”

“You didn't want the publicity at first.” she reminded him.

He smiled and agreed, “That's true, but then I realised that I needed people to see me and not be afraid.”

His friend smiled softly, “You do more than that Smallville, you make everyone feel safe.” 

Clark smiled at his friend's faith in him. It was then that he realised his urge to touch her earlier had returned to the back of his mind, as his thoughts were full of those intense eyes.

~*~

Later, he was walking home from the bar, taking it easy, when he got the sensation that he was being followed. When he got to his stoop, he turned and casually glanced down the street.

There he saw a man wearing a dark blue shirt and jeans to match that he didn't recognise. As he came closer, Clark saw how incredibly gorgeous he was. He second guessed himself, maybe he wasn't following him after all. Why would he?

Clark adjusted his black framed glasses, and expected to see the man walk straight by. But he didn't, he stopped and met his gaze. 

He was tall and strong, utterly masculine, but as he stood at the bottom of those stairs looking up at him, he looked fragile and his eyes appeared a little young. 

Clark began to speak, but he had to clear his throat and try again, “Can I help you?”

Tension filled the other man's jaw, and then he said, his voice quavering, “You don't remember.”

Clark looked into his eyes and he saw the breathtaking intensity there. Clark took a breath and then asked, “Batman?”

He shook his head, and closed his eyes as if in pain.

Clark studied the attractive silent man. Then an odd memory of looking through the business section came to mind, a photograph from a year or so ago. With quiet surprise, Clark said, “You're Bruce Wayne, aren't you?”

Bruce nodded his head and laughed unhappily.

He didn't understand his turmoil. Clark asked, “So that was your building on fire tonight, the explosion was aimed at you?”

The billionaire in front of him opened his eyes and shrugged, “I was chasing a villain. He dropped his bomb. It was only coincidence that it landed on Wayne Tower.”

He was a little disturbed by Bruce's presence here, so he just kept on talking. “Chasing them in the sky, that's why you were in that plane?”

Bruce only nodded looking at him seriously.

Clark licked his lips nervously, and then finally asked, “How did you find me?”

The gorgeous man who was Batman grimaced, “I followed the clues like a detective without a badge.”

Clark frowned at the odd reply. Unsure, he asked, “What do you want?”

Bruce met his gaze, and then he was climbing the steps, until they were face to face. At the abruptness, Clark took a step back. Bruce's brow creased and he demanded lowly, “Don't be afraid.”

With his chest heaving for no good reason, Clark said breathily, “I'm not afraid.”

The other man smiled, and reached out and caressed his face just like he did before. And again, Clark let him. Bruce's thumb caressed Clark's lips, and then he leaned in.

Before his lips met his, Clark breathed, “I don't do this kind of thing.”

Bruce whispered, “Neither do I.”

Then his lips met Clark's. Clark's face creased with emotion and then he was returning the kiss. He could say it was like he had no willpower, but that wasn't true, he just wasn't trying to fight it. He wanted it. 

Bruce's fingers caressed up Clark's nape and into his hair, and he deepened the kiss even more. Clark groaned and wrapped his arm around Bruce's waist and pulled him closer.

They kissed until they had to pull away panting with pleasure. Clark gazed into his eyes, and saw something there, something that it should've been too early to be there. They'd only just met but he saw passion and love and devotion there just waiting to be let loose.

He felt it in his own body, the connection that could be between them, he was already half hard just from one kiss. God, he was never this easy, he never wanted to invite a complete stranger up to his apartment, but it was happening right now.

He was a fellow guardian of a city, and maybe that was why he felt so connected to him already. His mind was telling him to be wary, he'd somehow tracked him down, and turned up on his doorstep. He could be a psychopath, he could be dangerous. 

Maybe he should tell him to go away, but his instincts were telling him it was okay, more than okay, not only that it wasn't wrong for him to be here, but that it was so, so right.

Clark licked his lips, and he asked, “Do you want to... do you want to come up to my apartment?”

Bruce looked only a little less overwhelmed than Clark was feeling. “Only if you want me to... Clark.”

He said his name like it was a unique word that he'd never heard before. Clark grinned and said playfully, “I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want you to, Bruce.”

Bruce nodded, “Then I'd love to.”

~*~

They made their way up to Clark's apartment, and Bruce had a little glance around curiously as Clark got rid of his coat.

Clark wasn't sure what to do. If this was a run of the mill situation, inviting someone up here, he'd ask if they wanted a drink. If they were friends, they'd sit down and talk, chat about whatever.

He never invited someone up hoping that they might spend the night. He didn't do that because that someone would undoubtedly expect him to take off his glasses, and he couldn't do that.

Except, this stranger knew his secret, he could take his glasses off right now. This man came up here expecting to continue their kiss or something more, or maybe he was projecting. Maybe it was just Clark who wanted to kiss him again.

He decided to test his reading of the situation, and he took his glasses off. When Bruce's gaze finished his inventory of Clark's living room, he met his gaze. When he saw him without his glasses on, Bruce blinked slowly, and then his gaze found the doorway to Clark's bedroom. Then he turned and looked at Clark again.

Then he said, “I never expected to find you living in a place like this.”

Clark shrugged, “That's the point, nobody expects Kal-El of Krypton to have a normal life.”

Bruce approached slowly, he said thoughtfully, “Is that really who you are Kal-El of Krypton?”

Clark frowned at the question but answered truthfully, “It's my birth name, it's who I was for about the first year of my life before my planet was destroyed.” he shrugged again, “Since then I've been Clark Kent. I am Clark Kent.”

“So what you show the world is real, it's not a more reasonable excuse for your powers.” he asked curiously.

Clark licked his lips, “What would I hide by saying I'm an alien?”

Bruce gazed at him softly, “I wondered if maybe you were something else.”

“Like what?”

“An angel, maybe.”

Clark snickered lightly.

“That's funny?” Bruce tilted his head, “You could be an angel, you're beautiful enough to be one.”

At the compliment, Clark's eyelashes fluttered and he smiled bashfully, “No, I'm not an angel. I just try to help those in need.”

The other man swallowed hard, “Yes, I believe that.” he reached out and put his hand against Clark's chest right where the shield usually was. Then Bruce murmured, “You are justice.”

Clark carefully lifted his hand away, and then unbuttoned his shirt, and showed him. “Not tonight, my uniform got a little smokey from the fire.”

Intense eyes stared at his exposed chest, and then his hand was pressed to his bare skin. His touch felt like static across his skin, his chest heaved under his hand. Clark asked roughly, “Why did you come here tonight?”

Bruce's fingers traced his skin, as he revealed, “I took our meeting tonight as a sign.”

“A sign?”

“That I should be by your side, that I belong there.”

It was a powerful statement to make, and a normal person might run away from such an idea but Clark wasn't normal, he'd never been normal. 

Clark asked, “You want to join my Justice League?”

Bruce replied, “I'm not fond of groups, but I'll do it to be able to help you, to be close to you.”

His eyes widened,”Is this only about me. Do you think it'll mean that we'll be together.”

The other hero denied, “No, my hopes for Gotham, my mission to preserve life, they're mine, they're not dependant on you or anyone else.”

He let out a relieved sigh. Then Bruce added, “If you don't want me, it won't stop us working together, I promise.”

Clark glanced down at the male hand still touching his chest, and then he asked, “But you do want me. I mean that kiss before...”

Suddenly, Bruce lunged forward and took Clark's mouth. Clark whined and he returned the kiss ardently. Bruce's hands pulled him into his embrace, and Clark's hands threaded through Bruce's hair.

It was crazy, but he'd never felt like this before. Nobody had made him feel like this before.

He could feel their bodies pressed together. They pulled away panting. Then Bruce asked with restraint, “Tell me, do you want me to go, because I'll go if you want me to.”

He shook his head and then he reached for and took both of Bruce's hands and then he led him backwards towards his bedroom door. Inside the bedroom, they pulled each other into another kiss.

~*~

The kiss ended, and Bruce pulled back, and met his gaze and Clark recognised the love there in his partner’s eyes.

He remembered everything, he remembered the life they’d had before, he remembered the twisted lust of the other place, and he remembered this life with the man that he loved.

He recognised now, that Bruce had come to him that first night because of his memories of him. However, he also knew that from that night on, they'd built their life together by really getting to know each other, working with each other, and then falling deeply in love just like in his reality. 

Clark smiled, and he cupped Bruce’s face and he caressed both his cheeks with his thumbs, and he said, “We belong to each other.”

Bruce nodded, and with emotion he agreed, “Yes, we do, Clark.”

Clark took his mouth deep and sensual, and Bruce returned it with welcome familiarity. It made Clark smile, and he pulled out the kiss laughing. 

From across the room, their teammates let out a flurry of groans and chuckles. Dick grumbled, “Yeah I know, I have to live with it.”

Bruce glared across at his sidekick, and then met Clark’s gaze and looked bashful.

He remembered what he'd been doing before all this began, and he whispered, “I was planning a surprise for you.”

His stoic lover glanced over at all their teammates watching on, after all this time, he still wasn't very good with groups. “Let’s get out of here, I think we need some time alone.”

He chuckled, “That was my surprise.”

Bruce smiled, and he asked gently, “Are you sure you’re well?”

He’d saved his lover, and he’d saved Gotham. It was a different life than the one that he remembered, that he would always remember; it wasn’t better or worse, just different, and that was okay.

With a nod, Clark replied, “Yeah, you love me, so I will be.”

The hero that he loved in return leaned in and kissed him. 

The end


End file.
